THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


*JO 


C/A 


ALONG  THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 
OR 

THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE 


A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SOUTHERN 
UNITED  STATES 

BY 

JOHN  CORNELIUS ) 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


"Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1912,  by 

MRS.  JOHN  R.  SHOOK 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 

at  Washington." 


PRESS  OF  MAVERICK-CLARKE  LITHO  CO.,  SAN  ANTONIO,  TEX.,  U.  S.  A 


"P5 


COPYRIGHT,  1912, 
BY  MRS.  JOHN  R.  SHOOK.     (JOHN  CORNELIUS). 


550368 


A  trail  it  is.    A  mere  trail — but  bearing  traces 

Of  a  roadway  centuries  old. 
Bent  like  a  rainbow — its  curve  embraces 

The  waters  of  a  gulf. 
Again  like  the  rainbow — so  they  say 

From  Florida  to  Yucatan, 
To  each  and  every  man  who  comes  that  way, 
There's  always  a  promise  of  Gold. 


Illustrations. 


"Uncovered  Ruin  of  an  Old  Mission" 

(Frontispiece.) 


"Darius,  you  are  the  best  brother  and  the  most  wonderfully  inter 
esting  young  man  I  ever  heard  of." 

(Chapter  4.) 


"In  an  instant  the  Indian  had  thrown  the  lasso  from  the  horn  of 
his  saddle  and  drawn  his  pistol." 

(Chapter  9.) 

"With    frontier  wisdom,    she   looked  back  and  saw    that    it    was 
Archie  Berenger,  himself." 

(Chapter  13.) 

"The  Old  las  Peredas  Road." 

(Book  II,  Chapters.) 

"The  Duel." 

(Book  II,  Chapters.) 

"After  the  Riot." 

(Book  II,  Chapter  9.) 


Contents. 


BOOK  I. 

Chapter  Page 

I.     Introductory 1 

II.     The  Bathursts 10 

III.  The  Challenge  and  its  Consequences 22 

IV.  A  Wedding  Gown  of  1835 39 

V.     A  Tragedy 55 

VI.     Hypolite 72 

VII.     When  the  Planters  Came 81 

VIII.     "Dead  Man's  Hollow" 101 

IX.     The  Raid.. 122 

X 137 

XI 150 

XII 169 

XIII 187 

XIV . .  206 

XV 218 

XVI.     An  Excursion  to  the  Missions  Had  Been  Agreed  Upon 240 

BOOK  II. 

I.     The  Boulders 269 

II.     Indian  Summer 291 

III.  "Cost  What  it  May" 307 

IV.  The  Storm 326 

V.     The  Old  Las  Peredas  Road 352 

VI 371 

VII 404 

VIII.     The  Battle  of  Mansfield 430 

IX.     A  Ghostly  Admonition  Coming  on  the  Heels  of  a  Riot  ....  448 

X 471 

XI 476 

Afterwards 594 


Preface  to  Introductory  Chapter. 

(Telling  why  it  was  written.) 

IT  is  a  fine  thing  to  plunge  at  once  into  a  story, 
either  in  the  reading  or  the  writing  of  it.  But 
here  an  explanation  will  be  in  order — that  the 
reader  may  be  made  acquainted  with  the  people 
who  settled  in  Southwest  Texas,  first  and  last,  at 
different  periods  leading  up  to  the  time  "When 
the  Planters  Came."  This  neither  includes  the 
aborigines — the  Lipans,  Comanches,  Apaches  of 
the  West  and  Northwest,  nor  the  Carancahuas 
and  other  cannibal  tribes  of  the  coast,  the  date 
of  whose  coming  can  only  be  guessed — but  be 
gins  with  the  European  nations  who  crowded 
them  out. 

It  might  be  said  that  only  in  change  of  form, 
that  anything  told  or  written  may  be  called  either 
new  or  old;  and  this  may  be  the  reason  why 
nearly  all  the  ancient  love  stories  of  the  South 
west  bear  a  family  resemblance;  being  more  like 
those  of  foreign  countries,  and  of  our  own  South 
American  Catholic  countries — treating  of  old 
churches,  monasteries  and  convents  and  of  the 
dwellers  therein,  as  well  as  of  the  members — 
aristocratic  or  humble — of  the  laity;  and  reading, 
but  for  the  quaint  new-world  setting,  like  the 
romances  of  the  same  date  in  older  civilizations. 
After  these  come  another  class — filled  with  ac- 


counts  of  Indian  raids  upon  pioneer  settlements 
the  pioneers  themselves  being  rough,  uneducated 
men  and  women  with  uncouth  manners  and  ways 
of  speech,  rangers  owning  small  or  large  droves 
of  horses  and  cattle  and  spelling  themselves 
"texians". 

In  addition  to  all  of  this  there  must  be  num 
bers  of  vaqueros,  in  all  the  glory  of  Mexican  hats, 
saddles,  lariats  and  broncos  for  the  men— with 
rebozas  and  mantillas  for  the  women,  and  cigar- 
ritas  for  both.  This  has  often  been  complained 
of  as  going  too  far  in  the  finishing  up  of  a  Texas 
story;  but  certainly  the  time  has  not  come  when 
they  could  be  left  out — forming  now,  as  they  did 
a  century  ago,  the  most  picturesque  spectacle  of 
life  in  the  Southwest.  The  style  has  held  its  own 
so  long  that  any  change  is  likely  to  be  regarded 
as  an  innovation;  besides  it  is  more  than  possible 
that  far  the  greater  number  of  people  in  the 
older  states  may  find  it  hard  to  believe,  that  there 
were  communities  living  in  Texas  from  1850  to 
1860,  which  included  such  characters  as  make 
up  the  personnel  of  this  romance,  forgetting  or 
never  having  heard  that  the  founding  of  San  An 
tonio  de  Bexar  and  that  of  Philadelphia,  Prarie 
du  Chien,  Wisconsin,  and  San  Augustine, 
Florida,  were  contemporaneous.  The  following 
half  dozen  or  more  pages — a  brief  compilation 
from  more  voluminous  records  of  unquestionable 
authenticity — will  show,  in  part  at  least,  a  glimpse 
of  Texas  as  it  was  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

Hence  the  old-fashioned  introductory  chapter. 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

About  the  first  settlement  of  the  country.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  establish  the  date  of  its  beginning: — 
the  old  San  Antonio- Nacogdoches  road  found  now  only 
upon  ancient  maps,  was  perhaps  the  oldest  traveled 
thoroughfare  in  America.  Going  east  from  San  An 
tonio  it  extended  to  Nacogdoches,  passing  on  in  the 
same  direction  to  Natchitoches,  Louisiana,  and  thence 
to  San  Augustine,  Florida.  From  San  Antonio  going 
south,  it  reached  the  City  of  Mexico.  It  was  known  as 
"The  King's  Highway." 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  it  was  used  in  plant 
ing  the  earliest  missionary  colonies  throughout  the 
adjacent  Spanish  territories;  perhaps  at  a  time  even 
before  San  Antonio  had  received  its  name  as  a  mis 
sionary  settlement — this  not  coming  about  until  the 
year  1665 ;  although  there  had  been  other  Spanish  set 
tlements  in  the  preceding  century.  Previously  to  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  all  this  country 
had  been  wholly  under  ecclesiastical  domination;  then 
changing  to  military  control,  it  still  remained  in  part 
under  clerical  jurisdiction: — the  church  retaining  a 
certain  authority  outside  its  own  organizations.  But 
whether  by  sword  or  cross,  a  patrician  rule,  the  effects 
of  which  are  still  noticeable,  was  universally  approved 
and  sustained  until  "the  coming  of  the  Americans" 
brought  its  then  unwelcome  changes : — up  to  this  date 
we  have  but  meager  accounts  of  the  manners  and  cus 
toms  belonging  to  the  upper  classes  living  in  those 
almost  forgotten  days — having  nothing  to  go  by  but 
the  old  church  and  military  records  to  be  found  in  the 


ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


dusty  "Archives  of  San  Antonio  de  Bexar;"  varying 
sometimes  to  translations  from  legends  in  script, 
chiefly  in  the  form  of  old  family  letters.  A  few  of 
which,  emblazoned  with  crest  or  other  heraldic  device, 
tell  that  there  were  youths  and  maidens  of  high  degree, 
who  lived  and  loved  as  yet  they  continue  to  do,  and 
in  much  the  same  fashion. 

But  later  in  our  researches,  we  are  given  something 
more  definite: — in  1807,  we  read  of  the  Governor, 
certain  army  officers — and  other  titled  persons — all 
of  high  rank — names  and  titles  given — who  "dispense 
hospitalities  and  adorn  social  meetings."  That  there 
are  "in  the  evenings — levees  at  the  Governor's — and 
sometimes  Mexican  dances  on  the  Plazas,  at  which  all 
assist ;  also  frequent  and  prolonged  card-parties."  This 
sounds  well  and  some  of  it  hardly  out  of  date.  But 
alas! — three  years  later — 1810 — or  may  be  the  year 
after,  we  read,  that — "the  passers  across  the  San  An 
tonio  river  between  the  Plaza  de  Armas  and  the  Alamo, 
behold  a  strange  sight.  It  is  the  head  of  a  man  stuck 
on  a  pole,  in  bloody  menace  to  all  rebels!"  Strange 
sight  indeed — to  any  American  living  in  the  nineteenth 
century : — something  on  par  with  the  ox-goads,  which 
take  us  backwards  to  the  years  far  away  before  Christ. 

Leaving  all  conjecture  aside,  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
between  the  years  1660-65,  the  Spanish  government 
had  built  a  Mission  in  San  Antonio.  And  below  on  the 
river,  in  1720,  the  Mission  of  San  Jose,  "the  strongest 
for  military  purposes  and  the  most  ornate  as  to  archi 
tectural  adornments"  of  all  the  five  Missions,  was  com 
pleted.  It  is  still  here,  and  though  in  ruins,  shows  a 
strength  and  lastingness  in  construction  which  war 
rants  the  belief  that  its  days  are  not  yet  numbered : — 
the  walls  being  of  a  thickness  and  durability  unknown 
in  modern  architecture. 

From  1812  to  1815  there  came  a  great  many  Amer 
icans  from  the  United  States,  and  also  a  few  German 
emigrants;  these  being  afterwards  known  as  "Old 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE 


Texans."  From  1843  to  '47,  a  number  of  French  and 
English;  the  latter,  almost  without  exception,  retain 
ing  their  allegiance  to  their  home  government. 
Among  them  were  people  of  culture — writers  of  no 
mean  ability — some  were  draftsmen,  surveyors,  engi 
neers,  land-owners  and  not  a  few  successful  ranch 
men. 

In  1844-5,  Germans  came  by  shiploads,  their  num 
bers  exceeding  all  others  except  those  of  Americans. 
They  settled  chiefly  in  the  mountains  North  and  West 
of  San  Antonio.  A  correspondent  of  a  local  paper,  in 
discussing  the  underlying  motive  of  this  immigration, 
says : — 

"Instead  of  coming  merely  to  escape  oppression  and 
to  otherwise  better  themselves,  their  movement  from 
German}'  to  Texas  was  an  effort  which  might  be  ex 
plained  as  following  a  current, — as  in  the  words  of  the 
poet : — 'Westward  the  course  of  Empire  takes  its  way/ 
So  with  the  people.  Their  rulers,  however,  nursed 
ambitious  dreams  of  laying  the  foundation  of  German 
rule,  deeply  and  solidly  on  North  American  soil." 

The  peculiar  situation  of  the  Republic  of  Texas  in 
the  years  between  1836  and  1845,  offered  admirable 
and  most  tempting  opportunities  to  European  powers 
to  get  a  firm  grasp  on  a  domain  almost  as  large  as  all 
of  them  put  together." 

From  a  little  book  published  in  the  interest  of  New 
Braunfels  several  years  ago,  the  same  correspondent 
quotes  the  following  facts,  which  have  not  as  yet  been 
incorporated  into  any  English  history  of  Texas,  to- 
wit: — 

"The  first  exclusively  German  town  in  Texas  was 
established  in  1844,  at  Industry,  in  Austin  county.  It 
was  the  nucleus  of  a  series  of  German  settlements 
along  the  Brazos  and  Colorado  rivers  from  Austin  to 
Houston.  These  constituted  'Little  Germany,'  in  con 
tradistinction  to  'Great  Germany,'  lying  between  the 


ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


Colorado  and  the  Rio  Grande.  The  'little  oasis,'  New 
Braunfels,  lies  in  'Great  Germany,'  and  was  its  be 
ginning. 

"To  better  understand  the  period  to  which  I  refer, 
let  the  reader  recall  a  few  facts  of  history. 

"The  Royal  Standard  of  Spain  had  vanished  in  1821 
from  the  land  of  the  Aztec  and  Montezuma,  and  the 
tri-color  of  the  Mexican  Republic  with  serpent  and 
eagle  had  taken  its  place.  This  in  turn  gave  place  in 
1836  to  the  Lone  Star  Banner  of  the  Republic  of  Texas. 
The  massacres  of  Goliad  and  the  Alamo  had  been 
avenged  at  San  Jacinto. 

"The  eyes  of  the  world  were  on  the  young  nation — 
openly  courted  by  the  United  States — and  secretly 
coveted  by  European  powers.  In  1842  an  Emigrant 
Society  was  formed  in  Germany,  composed  of  twenty 
odd  Princes,  Counts,  barons  and  noblemen.  At  a  meet 
ing  in  June,  1843,  at  Bieberich,  it  was  named — "The 
Association  of  Princes,  for  the  protection  of  German 
Immigrants  in  Texas." 

"Prince  Frederick  of  Prussia,  was  its  head,  Count 
Castell  was  the  moving  spirit, — while  the  Duke  of  Nas 
sau  was  the  protector  of  the  Association.  Prince  Carl 
of  Solms  Braunfels  was  appointed  Commissioner-Gen 
eral,  and  sent  to  Texas  to  investigate  in  1844. 

"The  Association  purchased  the  Fisher-Miller  grant 
between  the  Colorado  and  the  San  Saba — a  terra  in 
cognita, — one  hundred  miles  from  any  settlement.  In 
November  three  ship  loads  of  emigrants  landed  at  Gal- 
veston  (1844)  and  were  reshipped  by  Prince  Braun 
fels  to  Lavaca  Bay.  They  soon  set  out  for  the  Fisher- 
Miller  grant  headed  by  Prince  Braunfels,  he  traveling 
in  princely  style, — while  the  colonists  walked  or  rode 
in  ox-wagons.  Becoming  tired  or  discouraged  they 
went  into  camp  at  Victoria  and  Prince  Braunfels 
passed  on  to  San  Antonio.  Here  John  Rahm,  an  'Old 
Texan  German/  told  him  of  the  beautiful  Comal 
springs,  to  which  he  was  guided  by  one  of  Jack  Hays' 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE 


famous  'Texas  rangers.'  He  was  entranced  by  their 
beauty  and  bought  the  tract  of  land  surrounding  them 
from  the  owners.  After  this  purchase,  the  colonists 
hurried  on  and  crossed  the  Guadalupe  to  its  west  side 
on  Good  Friday,  March  1st,  1845.  They  pitched  their 
tents  on  the  high  bluff  overlooking  the  Comal  river 
where  now  stands  the  pretty  Catholic  church.  Here 
on  this  sacred  spot  and  sacred  day  was  founded  the 
first  colony  of  'The  German  Association  of  Princes.' 
Besides  securing  a  lovely  and  valuable  piece  of  land 
the  object  seems  to  have  been  to  use  it  as  a  half  way 
station  in  reaching  the  Fisher-Miller  grant  farther 
interior;  for  that  object  was  never  abandoned  either 
by  Prince  Carl — his  successors,  or  the  society,  until 
some  years  later,  the  grant  was  forfeited  by  non-per 
formance  of  its  conditions. 

"A  second  attempt  to  reach  it  resulted  in  the  estab 
lishment  of  their  second  colony  at  Fredericksburg ; 
and  a  still  later  one  in  a  few  scattering  settlements 
along  the  San  Saba. 

"The  colonists  prudently  fortified  their  camp  on  the 
bluffs,  and  then  erected  on  another  high  hill  a  'Log 
Castle'  for  Prince  Carl.  This  was  dedicated  April  27, 
1845,  with  much  ceremony — and  christened  'Sophien- 
burg' — in  honor  of  Prince  Carl's  sweetheart,  Her  Most 
Serene  Highness,  Lady  Sophia, — widowed  Princess  of 
Lowenstein-Wertheim-Rosenberg-Rochef ort ! ! !  In  his 
'Log  Castle,'  the  Prince  resided  some  ten  months — sur 
rounded  by  his  advisory  council,  attorney  and  secre 
tary,  until  the  time  of  annexation  came ;  whereupon  he 
returned  to  his  ancestral  palace,  Braunfels,  in  Nassau 
— never  to  see  Sophienburg  again.  During  his  stay 
the  town  was  laid  out  and  named  by  him,  New  Braun 
fels,  in  memory  of  his  estate  in  Germany.  The  colo 
nists  were  given  town  lots  and  ten  acre  farms  on  which 
they  built  huts  of  logs,  bricks,  mud  and  prairie  grass. 
Treaties  were  made  with  the  Indians,  who  held  full 
sway  over  the  region.  The  society  continued  to  send 


ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


over  ship  loads  of  emigrants  in  1846-7,  but  little  pro 
visions  and  less  money.  Baron  von  Muesebach,  suc 
cessor  to  Braunfels,  headed  an  expedition  of  about 
three  thousand  at  Old  Indianola,  waiting  for  trans 
portation  to  the  interior.  Marching  on  foot  mostly, 
not  one-half  of  them  reached  their  destination.  One 
chronicler  of  the  times  says:  'The  highways  to  the 
German  settlements  were  strewn  with  human  bones. 
The  well  grew  sick,  the  weak  grew  weaker — drooped 
and  died.  Their  companions  buried  them  and  pressed 
on.  Soon  there  came  a  time  when  their  bodies  were 
left  unburied.  Wagons  were  found  with  the  dead  bodies 
of  oxen  still  in  the  yoke  and  about  them  the  remains 
of  entire  families.  The  condition  of  the  remnant  that 
reached  New  Braunfels  was  little  better — and  so  many 
died  that  the  cemetery  was  called,  'Dr.  Koester's  plan 
tation.'  The  people  were  driven  to  a  diet  of  herbs 
and  acorns,  until  the  Lipan  Indians  came  to  the  rescue 
with  venison  and  bear  meat.' 

"After  annexation  'The  Assocation  of  Princes,'  be 
came  indifferent  to  their  enterprise  and  sent  over 
neither  money  nor  provisions, — only  emigrants  to  be 
fed  and  clothed.  The  colonists  forced  to  self-reliance 
opened  up  their  fields  and  soon  became  prosperous  and 
contented. 

"Society  was  a  mixture  of  prince  and  peasant, — pre 
serving  the  European  regard  for  caste  in  the  face  of 
American  democracy. 

"Count  Henkel  von  Donewert  of  Hesse-Cassel,  kept 
the  first  grocery  store  in  New  Braunfels. 

"Baron  Wedemeyer,  son  of  the  Prime  Minister  to 
the  King  of  Hanover,  had  a  farm.  Beer  and  wine  were 
dispensed  by  Baron  Nuendorff. 

"Baron  von  Delbigh  was  a  broncho  buster, — while 
Baron  Kriewecz  lived  with  the  Indians." 

This  ends  the  quotation  which  appears  to  be  an  ex 
tract  from  some  historical  collection  written  in  Ger 
man.  It  has  been  asserted  that  some  of  the  descend- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE 


vants  of  these  colonists, — and  there  are  many,  still  cher 
ish  the  hope  that  this  portion  of  Texas  will  yet  become 
part  of  the  German  Empire. 

Besides  those  of  royal  and  less  noble  lineage,  there 
were  amongst  these  pioneer  settlers  many  cultured  per 
sons;  men  and  women  of  the  German  upper  middle 
classes,  who,  with  the  hundreds  of  the  more  humble 
artisans,  farmers  and  tradespeople,  have  contributed 
more  than  any  other  citizens  to  the  prosperity  of 
Texas;  this  assertion  applies  to  all  other  German  set 
tlements  in  the  State.  Later  by  a  year  or  two,  came 
the  incomparable  Henri  de  Castro,  with  his  Rhein- 
landers  and  his  fortune,  settling  up  Medina  County. 
These  people  came  from  the  Provinces  of  Alsace  and 
Lorraine,  then  belonging  to  France,  and  were  of  mixed 
ancestry — French  and  German.  Taken  all  in  all,  it  is 
due  to  this  class  of  immigrants,  that  farming  and  mar 
ket-gardening  were  made  a  successful  possibility;  for 
the  conditions  in  this  almost  tropical  region  are  totally 
different  from  those  existing  in  their  native  land;  but 
a  stubborn  will  and  an  indefatigable  industry,  both 
qualities  inherent  in  their  natures,  helped  them  to  find 
new  methods  and  overcome  all  difficulties.  At  the 
time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Alsatian  element,  or  perhaps 
a  little  in  advance,  there  came  a  new  order  of  Ameri 
cans  differing  greatly  from  those  preceding  them,  who 
along  with  the  early  Germans  were  now  called  "Pion 
eers."  The  newcomers  were  from  all  the  Southern  or 
Gulf  States,  and  also  the  middle  Southern — Virginia, 
Maryland,  Kentucky  and  others  belonging  to  the  slave 
holding  sections.  There  were  also  many  from  the 
States  North  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line — men  from 
New  York,  Pennsylvania  and  from  those  of  the  Middle 
West  and  from  Canada;  who,  though  disproportioned 
as  to  number,  were  often  men  of  means;  merchants — 
road  builders — public  spirited  citizens,  who  finish  up  a 
new  country  by  establishing  stage  lines  and  building 
railroads.  As  before  stated  those  from  the  South  came 


8  ALONG  THK  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

in  far  greater  numbers,  and  were  almost  without  ex 
ception,  planters,  horse  breeders,  and  cattle  owners. 
They  brought  their  slaves  with  them  together  with 
their  dogs — foxhounds,  greyhounds,  pointers,  setters 
— all  of  the  best  breeds.  All  the  accessories  in  fact 
that  went  to  make  up  the  plantation  life  of  that  time. 

The  greater  part  of  them  were  the  offshoots  from 
the  best  families  in  the  States  from  which  they  came : 
— families  whose  ancestors  held  office  in  the  colonies 
when  under  Royal  rule, — coming  from  the  United 
Kingdom  to  the  provinces  with  the  earliest  emigrants. 

Besides  hounds,  horses,  and  servants  they  brought 
also  the  same  habits  of  life,  in  religion  and  amuse 
ment; — the  same  tastes  in  books,  music  and  dress. 
There  were  among  them  representatives  of  such  names 
as  Abercromby,  Abernathy,  Berkley,  Buchanan,  Child- 
ers,  Chambers,  Fraser,  Fox,  Greene,  Harper,  Hamp 
ton,  Hamilton  and  others  denoting  English  extraction. 
Others  of  Scotch  sounding — like  Montgomery,  Dun 
can,  Neill,  Munroe,  Campbell  and  a  host  of  such  names 
as  McLain,  McKeown,  McDonald  and  others  of  like 
prefix.  One  might  say  shoals  of  them,  and  without 
being  far  wrong  go  still  farther  and  assert  that  almost 
every  name  in  the  kingdom  of  Scotland  is  to  be  found 
in  one  or  the  other  many  counties  of  Texas. 

They  are  generally  good  church-men  and  church- 
women  with  Calvinistic  views  and  puritanical  princi 
ples.  A  kind  of  people  who  try  to  dominate  any  neigh 
borhood,  town  or  county  honoured  with  their  citizen 
ship  ; — the  limit  of  their  tolerance  or  intolerance  as  the 
case  may  be,  only  restrained  by  their  own  occasional 
lapses  from  virtue — the  laws  of  religion  and  sometimes 
propriety ; — a  something  that  now  and  then  takes  place 
in  the  best  regulated  churches,  as  well  as  in  the  equally 
well  conducted  families.  But  who  is  to  say  they  are 
not  what  they  believe  themselves  to  be — the  "Salt  of 
the  Earth."  Fire-brands  it  may  be ;  but  does  not  fire 
purify?  With  the  incoming  of  thousands  each  year, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE 


from  all  parts  of  the  globe,  villages  and  towns  sprang 
into  existence,  and  San  Antonio,  hitherto  bearing  re 
semblance  to  tne  old  time  semi-civilized  Spanish  Mis 
sion  towns  of  the  Western  Continent,  began  to  take  on 
a  cosmopolitan  appearance,  in  which  many  national 
ities  were  represented ;  one  feature  of  this  being  shown 
by  sign-boards  and  advertising  placards  in  two  or  more 
languages: — those  above  the  offices  of  lawyers  and 
physicians,  on  stores,  especially  drug-stores,  giving  a 
like  double  notice.  The  traveller,  coming  in  or  going 
out  of  town  on  its  eastern  approach,  was  made  to  go 
slow  by  this  warning,  given  in  three  tongues  posted  on 
a  sign-board  at  each  end  of  the  bridge : — the  first  being 
in  English,  and  the  two  following,  signifying  the  same, 
being  in  German  and  Spanish: — 

"Walk  your  horse  over  the  bridge,  or  you 

will  be  fined." 

"Schuelles   Reiten   uber   diese   Brucke   ist 

verboten." 

"Anda  despacio  con  su  caballo,  o  teme  la 

ley." 

The  old  bridge  has  long  ago  disappeared,  having 
been  twice  replaced  by  others,  such  as  in  their  day  were 
modern,  with  less  of  wood  and  more  of  stone  and 
iron — and  higher — for  the  San  Antonio  river  some 
times  booms — and  is  apt  to  carry  with  it  whatever 
comes  in  the  way  of  its  mad  career  to  the  gulf.  With 
the  departure  of  old  customs,  went  the  old  landmarks, 
and  with  them  this  wise  old-world  precaution.  Now, 
over  the  many  bridges  spanning  the  sinuous  river, 
thunder  fast-trotting  teams,  galloping  horsemen,  fly 
ing  automobiles  and  noisy  streetcars.  The  old  Mission 
town  of  San  Antonio  is  fast  becoming  a  modern  city, 
whose  rapidly  extending  limits  are  daily  taking  in  its 
beautiful  surrounding  heights,  already  dotted  with 
palatial  residences  and  clustered  with  pretty  cottages, 
and  within,  but  for  the  old  cathedral  of  San  Fernando 
and  the  Alamo,  there  is  little  left  to  tell  of  its  great 
age  and  to  proclaim  the  tragic  glory  of  its  Past! 


10  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  BATHURSTS. 

Among  the  invading  army  from  the  states  comprised 
in  what  is  known  as  Dixie,  was  James  Paul  Bathurst 
of  Berkley  Place,  Berkley  District,  South  Carolina, 
who  in  company  with  others  had  visited  Southwest 
Texas  in  1835,  nearly  twenty  years  before.  Bearing 
as  it  does  on  what  is  to  be  written  hereafter,  and  look 
ing  to  their  prominence  in  the  following  pages,  a  back 
ward  look  into  the  life  and  history  of  this  respectable 
family,  could  hardly  be  called  a  digression. 

Hugh  Thomas  Bathurst,  (Gent.)  early  English  Colo 
nist,  inherited  and  settled  on  a  three  hundred  acre  tract 
of  land  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Province  of  South 
Carolina,  fifteen  miles  a  little  to  the  southwest  of  the 
town  of  Charleston,  and  about  five  miles  of  the  Atlan 
tic  coast.  When  or  how  this  property  came  into  the 
possession  of  his  father,  was  never  known  to  any  of 
his  descendants.  It  was  named  as  part  of  his  inherit 
ance  in  the  will ;  but  when  a  record  to  prove  title  was 
looked  for,  none  was  to  be  found.  But  neither  was 
there  ever  a  claimant  for  the  land,  the  locality  of 
which  was  so  well  described  in  the  will.  Many  years 
after — a  generation  or  so — Basil  Darius,  owner  of  the 
adjoining  section,  discovered  on  an  ancient  map  of 
North  America,  two  names,  out  of  a  hundred  others, 
marking  the  settlements  in  the  Province  of  South  Caro 
lina.  They  covered  the  ground  now  owned  by  himself 
and  the  heirs  of  Hugh  Thomas  Bathurst,  the  colonist. 

"Backhurst  and  Daris — not  quite  our  names,  Paul, 
but  evidently  meant  to  be.  Date  of  map,  1681." 

"Perhaps  the  change  came  by  intended  evolution — 
or  by  a  mistake  of  the  geographer.  But  I  am  not  to 
be  influenced  by  it,  as  I  like  the  present  way  of  spel 
ling  best." 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE    ROUTE  11 

Returning  to  the  first  Bathurst : — in  addition  to  this 
land,  which  came  to  him  as  above  stated,  he  had  gained 
through  a  grant  from  his  relation,  Lord  Berkley,  one 
of  the  Lords  Proprietors  of  the  Province,  6400  acres 
or  ten  square  miles  lying  in  the  northwestern  part  of 
what  is  now  the  state  of  South  Carolina,  and  in  the 
district  known  as  the  Colleton  Barony.  From  begin 
ning  to  end,  the  reign  of  the  Proprietors  was  unpop 
ular  and  the  legality  of  their  proceedings  subjected  to 
doubt.  Their  patent,  dated  March,  1663,  granted  them 
the  whole  Province  of  South  Carolina,  and  was  given 
under  the  hand  of  his  Majesty,  Charles  II.  upon  his 
restoration  as  a  reward  for  their  loyal  support  and 
service  in  his  time  of  need.  Quoting  from  history — 
(McCrary's  History,  South  Carolina)  — 

"They  were  given  unlimited  powers ;  and  one  of  the 
most  objectionable  evils  complained  of  was  the  influx 
of  a  sometimes  very  undesirable  element  made  up  of  a 
class  who  did  not  know  how  to  labor;  and  which  con 
sisted  of  impecunious  relations,  younger  sons,  friends 
and  favourites  of  the  rulers  who  succeeded  in  getting 
the  preferred  offices  over  the  heads  of  the  more  wor 
thy  and  deserving  citizens  of  the  colony." 

The  Proprietors,  acting  in  good  faith,  and  upon  their 
legally  constituted  rights,  had,  before  their  withdrawal, 
granted  tracts  of  more  or  less  acreage,  in  some  in 
stances  giving  Baronies  and  Manors  to  their  favorites, 
or  relations,  as  well  as  selling  the  like  to  others — the 
attempt  was  made  by  a  number  of  colonists  to  invali 
date  these  claims  or  patents;  which  in  a  measure 
failed  and  under  the  Royal  Government  which  fol 
lowed,  the  Bathurst  grant  was  confirmed.  But  it  was 
not  until  the  year  1760  that  a  settlement  on  these  lands 
was  made  by  any  of  the  family;  although  there  had 
been  leases  granted  to  cow-herds — who  had  built  huts 
with  their  accompanying  cowpens,  inclosing  pasture 
grounds,  for  which  the  owners  had  been  paid  a  trivial 
rent. 


12  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Hugh  Thomas  Bathurst,  who  had  long  been  dead, 
had  doubled  the  acreage  of  his  coast  plantation,  and 
had  purchased  over  two  hundred  slaves; — leaving  as 
his  only  heirs,  George  Felix  Bathurst,  and  Cicely  Anne 
Bathurst.  Marrying  at  the  age  of  fifty-three  years, 
Sarah  Andrea  Darius,  a  lady  of  English  extraction, 
much  younger  than  himself,  it  was  not  until  1727  at 
the  age  of  sixty-four  years,  over  ten  years  after  his 
marriage,  that  this  son  was  born — the  birth  of  the 
daughter  following  two  years  after.  His  wife  survived 
him  many  years. 

The  coast  plantation  with  half  its  overgrown  negro 
population,  now  amounting  to  two  hundred  blacks,  was 
given  to  Cicely  Anne  Harris — nee  Bathurst,  who  had 
married  the  owner  of  an  adjoining  smaller  holding. 
The  other  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  slaves  and  the 
"Colleton  or  Berkley  grant,"  as  it  was  called,  was  justly 
deemed  its  equivalent  in  the  will.  The  widowed  mother 
being  provided  with  a  home  in  Charleston  and  an 
annuity. 

George  Felix  Bathurst,  at  this  time  thirty-three  years 
old  and  unmarried,  took  possession  of  his  estate  in  the 
northwest  portion  of  the  Province.  As  was  usual  with 
those  of  his  class,  he  was  educated  at  Oxford,  England ; 
to  which  university  he  had  been  sent  with  several 
others,  also  sons  of  opulent  planters  and  business  men 
of  the  colony.  He  comes  down  in  the  family  as  a  man 
of  agreeable  person  and  manners,  an  affectionate  dis 
position  and  of  decided  literary  tastes. 

Having  married  a  lady  of  his  own  rank  and  pos 
sessed  also  of  a  dowry  of  £5000 — and  having  built  a 
commodious  brick  mansion,  he  had  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
five  years,  succeeded  in  getting  his  plantation  in  good 
working  shape  and  had  turned  its  management  over 
to  one  of  his  slaves,  a  capable  man,  who  had  learned 
to  read  and  to  keep  accounts.  But  for  an  occasional 
evening  talk  of  from  one-half  to  an  hour  in  length  with 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  13 

this  man,  he  had  little  care  concerning  the  work  which 
he  felt  sure  would  be  well  and  faithfully  done.  There 
were  other  and  younger  men,  also  slaves  who  had 
charge  of  the  horses  and  dogs.  His  methodical  habits, 
as  well  as  his  amiable  temperament,  influenced  the 
whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  and  there  was  seldom 
a  jarring  note  in  the  domestic  machinery. 

But  this  state  of  affairs  was  not  to  last.  There  was 
a  storm  even  then  brewing,  which  was  to  shake  the 
whole  Province,  not  only  the  Province  but  the  whole 
world,  even  as  an  earthquake : — and  like  an  earthquake 
overturns  a  forest  or  swallows  up  a  city,  was  to  de 
stroy  and  trample  under  foot  all  that  had  previously 
constituted  the  basis  of  society  and  prosperity  of  the 
country.  There  was  to  be  a  revolution. 

The  ruling  classes  were  to  get  off  their  perches  and 
let  others  take  their  places;  and  fortunate  were  those 
who  like  the  Middletons,  Mortons,  Hamptons  and 
others,  who,  watching  the  turn  of  the  tide  of  events, 
were  enabled  to  retain  their  seats  at  the  front  and 
with  them,  not  only  their  power,  but  an  increase  of 
influence  among  the  masses. 

George  Felix  Bathurst  enlisted  under  the  Royal  ban 
ner  as  colonel  of  a  British  Tory  regiment, — the  com 
panies  composing  it  having  all  been  raised  in  the 
colony.  By  his  loyalty  he  was  made  to  suffer  like 
others,  great  pecuniary  losses,  in  money,  plate  and 
jewels;  also  in  live  stock  and  other  possessions.  And 
but  for  a  cousin,  an  officer  in  Sumpter's  command, 
would  have  been  hung  as  a  spy.  He  was  several  times 
taken  prisoner,  but  all  this  though  hard  to  bear,  was 
neither  the  worst  evil  nor  the  most  lasting,  which  re 
sulted  from  this  prolonged  war.  What  Col.  Bathurst 
most  deplored  was  the  enforced  neglect  of  his  child 
ren's  education.  As  told  in  history  "The  country  be 
ing  in  a  continual  uproar  for  so  prolonged  a  period 
by  the  contentions  of  Whigs  and  Tories,  it  had  degen- 


14  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

erated  into  a  battle-ground  for  their  skirmishes  and 
hand  to  hand  encounters,  making  it  impossible  for 
schools  to  be  maintained."  The  opportunities  for  learn 
ing,  in  the  colonies,  in  the  years  proceeding  the  revo 
lution  had  been  exceptionally  good,  but  his  children 
had  been  too  young  to  profit  by  them.  The  teachers, 
almost  without  exception,  had  been  born  in  England 
or  Scotland,  and  were  of  gentle  birth.  They  were  prin 
cipally  clergymen  of  the  Church  of  England ;  and  often 
masters  from  the  best  colleges  and  universities  of 
Great  Britian,  might  be  found  presiding  over  schools 
in  the  rude  buildings  known  as  "Old  Field"  school- 
houses.  Of  such  also  were  the  private  tutors  of  the 
sons  of  the  richest  men  in  the  colony. 

George  Bathurst,  son  of  Col.  George  Felix  Bathurst, 
the  Tory,  and  who  was  the  immediate  ancestor  of  our 
Texas  immigrant — James  Paul  Bathurst,  married 
Anne  Cornelius,  a  beautiful  French  girl,  the  daughter 
of  a  Huguenot  artisan — an  armorer,  whom  he  had 
met  when  on  a  business  visit  at  Charleston;  to  which 
place  he  had  gone  in  the  capacity  of  manager  of  a  train 
of  wagons  made  up  and  owned  by  his  father  and  other 
rice  and  cotton  planters  of  the  up-country.  This  mar 
riage,  which  occurred  in  the  year  1802,  so  displeased 
his  father,  who  after  the  revolution  had  again  become 
rich,  that  he  disinherited  this  son,  and  nothwithstand- 
ing  the  beauty,  piety  and  superior  education  of  the 
armorer's  daughter,  he  never  forgave  or  spoke  to  him 
again.  Not  so  with  the  mother,  whose  share  in  the 
great  estate  had  been  thrice  doubled  by  legacies  from 
relatives  in  England  and  in  Jamaica;  and  who,  by  a 
careful  disposition  of  her  part,  made  the  portion  of 
each  one  of  her  children,  about  equal  in  value.  It 
was  due  to  this  wise  forethought  that  Paul  was  brought 
up  in  affluence. 

"I  will  make  it  up  to  you,  George," — she  told  him, 
on  seeing  his  downcast  and  grieved  expression  of 
countenance  when  the  will  was  read. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  15 

"It  is  not  that,  mother ;  I  do  not  care  for  the  loss ;  but 
my  father  had  not  spoken  to  me  for  fifteen  years.  It 
was  unjust,  but  I  would  have  given  up  all  my  rights 
to  have  parted  friends  with  him.  I  would  have  named 
my  son  for  him,  if  you  had  not  written  that  he  did 
not  wish  it." 

"I  ought  to  have  explained  my  letter  more  fully,  and 
thought  I  had  done  so,  until  years  afterwards.  You 
ought  to  be  able  to  realize  the  change  in  one's  nature 
which  is  wrought  by  the  terrible  scenes  through 
which  he  has  passed.  He  was  known,  as  you  are  aware, 
as  'Old  Felix  Bathurst — the  traitor  and  Tory'  through 
out  the  Province.  A  thousand  falsehoods  were  cir 
culated — acts  and  deeds  were  ascribed  to  him  which 
were  foreign  and  impossible  to  a  nature  like  his;  and 
it  was  only  by  and  through  the  powerful  influence  of 
friends  and  relatives  that  he  was  permitted  to  live  in 
the  country.  When  you  were  born  near  the  end  of  the 
war,  I  wished  to  give  you  his  name  in  full;  but  he 
objected,  saying: 

"  'Do  not  call  him  Felix, — it  will  hamper  him 
through  life,'  and  he  used  some  language  and  expressed 
some  opinions  concerning  the  dear  patriots  which  I 
would  not  like  to  repeat.  That  is  what  your  father 
meant  when  he  said,  'I  hope  he  will  not  call  his  son  by 
my  name.'  In  those  trying  times  there  were  many  bat 
tles  and  skirmishes  fought  in  this  district,  and  many 
outrages  committed  through  retaliations  for  real  or 
fancied  wrongs ;  and  also  many  cowardly  and  ferocious 
murders.  When  done  by  the  party  called  Whigs,  they 
come  down  as  glorious  achievements;  whereas,  if  the 
Tory  had  his  house  burned — his  money  or  plate 
stolen — his  family  beaten  and  abused — any  reprisal  of 
like  nature  was  looked  upon  and  described  as  an  in 
famous  outrage,  and  it  had  to  go  at  that.  For  history 
is  left  to  the  victor  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
the  other  side  of  the  story  is  written, — if  ever.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  all  loyalists  who  could  have  left  for 


16  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Canada  or  Great  Britain,  by  taking  advantage  of  the 
funds  donated  by  the  British  Government,  left  at  once. 
Those  who  found  it  impossible  to  avail  themselves  of 
this,  fled  to  the  mountains,  and  hiding  there  lived  out 
their  lives — leaving  their  children  and  grandchildren 
to  grow  up  in  poverty  and  ignorance — some  of  them 
bearing  the  proudest  names  in  the  British  Empire. 
The  few  who  by  aid  of  powerful  friends  were  allowed 
to  remain  were  forever  after  barred  from  political 
influence. 

"Your  father,  George,  was  a  conscientious  man  and 
a  Christian  gentleman; — he  never  regretted  his 
course." 

James  Paul  Bathurst  was  now  twenty-five  years  old. 
Andrea  Darius,  a  distant  cousin,  whom  he  had  known 
from  infancy,  had  been  his  playmate,  schoolmate, 
friend  and  sweetheart,  one  or  the  other,  all  her  life. 
There  being  only  two  years  between  their  ages  she 
was  at  this  time  tweny-three. 

They  were  soon  to  be  married. 

The  marriage  portions  of  each,  not  large,  had  been 
allotted  and  now  awaited  them.  The  preceding  year 
had  been  passed  by  Paul  in  Louisiana.  The  time  had 
been  occupied  in  putting  in  order  their  future  home. 
Luckily  he  was  spared  much  labour  and  anxiety  by 
being  able  to  purchase  a  small  plantation  already  im 
proved,  at  least,  up  to  the  point  of  comfortableness; 
having  now  the  necessary  dwellings  both  for  owners 
and  slaves: — those  intended  for  negroes,  though  con 
tracted  were  particularly  well  constructed  and  were 
built  of  brick  with  large  double  chimneys, — the  fire 
places  being  more  than  half  the  width  of  the  rooms : — 
of  these  there  were  four — of  two  rooms  each.  There 
was  a  large  brick-kiln,  ready  for  future  use — awaiting 
the  time  when  it  might  please  the  owner  to  build  a 
mansion.  The  time  never  came.  Mr.  Bryce,  the  former 
owner,  died ;— within  a  month's  time  his  wife  followed 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  17 

him.  Shortly  after,  the  heirs  at  law  all  being  of  age — 
forced  a  sale  for  division  of  property;  and  as  is  usual 
in  such  cases  the  buyer  was  the  most  lucky  recipient. 

Bathurst  would  have  been  elated,  had  he  been  com 
pelled  to  pay  double  the  purchase  money; — and  ever 
afterwards  spoke  of  himself  as  "One  of  the  heirs  of 
the  Bryce  estate." 

"You  might  add,  the  most  favoured  one," — said 
young  Darius,  his  brother  in-law; — "Aren't  you  afraid 
you're  wronging  the  other  heirs  ?  Don't  you  think  you 
ought  to  refund? — say  in  small  sums, — until  your 
conscience  is  relieved." 

"I  am  quite  easy  in  my  conscience — and  have  been 
all  along.  Knowing  from  the  beginning  that  property 
out  there — in  land  especially — is  not  of  half  the  mark 
etable  value  it  is  here.  The  estate  would  have  been 
in  litigation  for  years ; — for  the  brothers  were  already 
almost  at  dagger's  points.  I  was  one  of  three  men 
only,  who  bid  upon  the  property  and  I  ventured  all 
the  money  I  had  laid  aside  for  building  purposes, — 
rather  than  lose  such  a  chance.  iEvery  one  thought  I 
had  given  a  fair  equivalent  all  considered.  So  as  yet, 
I  am  not  troubled  with  remorse." 

Masons  and  carpenters  had  been  put  to  work  and 
Paul  had  come  home  for  his  bride.  They  sat  on  a 
bench  in  the  garden,  with  boughs  of  myrtle  meeting 
above  their  heads,  and  the  odor  of  sweet-scented  flow 
ers  about  them.  They  had  gone  over  what  had  been 
accomplished  and  as  far  as  possible  what  had  yet  to 
be  done,  and  Paul  had  risen  to  go. 

"Don't  go  yet,  Paul,  I  want  you  to  see  Darius.  We 
were  anxious — even  alarmed  about  him  until  we  were 
assured  he  would  come  back  this  evening.  You  have 
heard  of  course  about  the  duel?" 

"My  mother  told  me ;  and  I  met  the  Ridleys.  The  duel 
that  never  came  off.  How  glad  I  am  that  it  did  not. 
Hasn't  he  been  at  home  since?" 


18  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"No,  it  has  been  ten  days  since  it  occurred;  and  no 
one  seems  to  have  known  anything  about  him  until  a 
day  or  two  ago.  Aurelia  thinks  he  has  been  afraid  to 
meet  father ;  but  he  need  not  have  been  after  the  first 
few  days.  It  was  reported  in  town  that  Darius  had 
acted  like  a  coward  and  backed  out.  Father  was  in 
Charleston  three  days  after  and  heard  it.  He  was  very 
wrought  up  about  it,  and  walked  about  the  hall  as  he 
told  us.  Saying  that  as  long  as  the  boy  had  provoked 
a  duel,  he  should  have  been  brave  enough  to  face  the 
consequences.  You  know  how  bitterly  father  is  op 
posed  to  the  duello.  As  usual,  Aurelia  put  in  and 
said: — "  Why  father,  I  thought  you  were  opposed  to 
duelling."  Father  answered  that  he  was  just  as  much 
opposed  to  cowardice.  And  then,  Paul,  I  talked!  I 
know  he  has  courage ;  he  doesn't  know  what  it  means 
to  be  afraid.  I  told  father  so ;  and  called  to  mind  many 
things  we  all  knew  about  this ;  he  was  flogged  repeated 
ly,  both  at  school  and  at  home,  for  fighting.  Father 
remembered,  and  now  thinks  there's  something  more 
than  we  have  yet  heard.  A  few  days  after,  this  false 
report  was  publicly  contradicted  by  both  Bob  and 
George  Ridley.  And  so  great  was  father's  relief,  that 
it  is  now  safe  for  Darius  to  come  home." 

"The  Ridleys  told  me  about  it ;  all  of  it  perhaps,  ex 
cept  the  cause;  they're  strictly  honorable  as  you  are 
aware,  and  of  course  know  a  little  more  than  they 
tell.  They  are  absurdly  proud  of  their  part  in  it." 

"Some  man,  claiming  to  be  an  eye-witness,  told 
father  that  Darius  provoked  the  challenge:  that  he 
was  standing  near  the  Ridley  brothers  on  the  balcony, 
just  as  the  guests  were  going  down  to  supper,  when 
Moncrieff  and  Darius  walked  out  of  the  hall  as  if 
nothing  was  the  matter,  and  that  all  at  once  when 
directly  in  front  of  the  Ridleys,  Darius  said  some- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  19 

thing  to  them  in  a  low  voice,  then  turning  quickly — 
and  with  an  oath — struck  Moncrieff ,  who  had  followed 
him,  a  furious  blow  with  his  fist." 

"With  his  fist!  That  is  not  true;  it  was  with  a 
glove.  A  snap  of  the  fingers  in  the  face — a  fillip  of 
the  ear  or  any  small  insult  is  a  sufficient  provocative 
for  a  challenge;  but  a  light  blow  with  glove  or  cane 
is  I  believe,  more  in  accordance  with  the  etiquette  of 
the  duello.  Of  course  the  fellow  knew.  Now  that  it 
ended  as  it  did ;  it's  all  very  funny.  George,  who  was 
Moncrieff 's  second,  says  his  man  ran  like  a  turkey; 
getting  aboard  his  ship,  and  afraid  for  a  day  or  two 
to  come  ashore  to  see  his  sweetheart : — and  yet  he  was 
the  only  man  in  the  row;  the  others  are  all  boys." 

"Who  is  Capt.  Moncrieff 's  sweetheart,  Paul?" 

"Caroline  Robson,  it  is  said;  and  I  believe  she  en 
dorses  the  report." 

"Ah !  I  have  sometimes  thought — "  Andrea  checked 
herself,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  added: — "I 
may  be  mistaken,  but  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
she  and  Darius  have  loved  each  other  for  years." 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Paul,  "but  she  is  older,  and  per 
haps  neither  one  of  them  was  seriously  involved  for 
Darius  never  goes  there.  Still  it  may  have  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  difficulty." 

The  family  of  Basil  Darius,  seven  in  number,  were, 
with  the  exception  of  a  son,  the  oldest  of  his  children, 
living  at  home.  All  of  them  yet  unmarried;  although 
the  ages  of  his  daughters,  Sarah  and  Aurelia  were 
respectively  forty  and  thirty-eight.  There  was  a  dif 
ference  of  many  years  between  the  three  older  and  the 
two  younger  children.  Self-confessed  "old  maids"  and 
having  lived  through  their  childhood  and  youth  to 
approaching  middle  age  in  a  way  characteristic  of 
each  they  were  apparently  content  to  take  their 
places  in  the  ranks  of  the  unmarried. 


20  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

To  them,  no  event  in  their  past  lives  could  compare 
in  interest  and  importance  to  the  coming  marriage 
of  their  younger  sister.  For  the  past  few  days  this 
feeling  had  been  overshadowed  by  fears  which  had 
overwhelmed  them  all.  What  had  become  of  Darius — 
what  had  he  done,  and  how  far  was  he  to  blame,  were 
questions  which  could  only  be  answered  by  conjecture. 
The  mystery  of  it  all !  What  did  it  mean  ?  It  was  not 
like  him —  nothing  in  it  was  like  him.  They  were 
afraid  to  inquire  openly;  in  some  way  such  a  measure 
might  injure  him.  It  had  been  a  great  relief  to  know 
he  would  be  at  home  in  the  evening. 

"We  will  now  learn  from  himself,  that  he  has  not 
been  quarrelsome — that  he  has  not  raised  a  disturb 
ance  in  a  neighbor's  house;  and  the  aftercharge  of 
cowardice  has  already  been  placed  where  it  belongs," 
said  Miss  Sarah,  with  flushed  cheeks. 

When  Darius,  barely  fourteen  years  of  age,  begged 
to  be  sent  to  the  military  academy  at  West  Point,  noth 
ing  more  antagonistic  to  the  wishes  of  his  father  could 
have  been  proposed.  He  was  also  astonished;  not 
having  seen  the  significance  of  his  younger  son's 
marked  predeliction  and  passionate  interest  for  all 
things  military.  In  everything  connected  with  the 
army — on  land  or  at  sea.  Its  battles — its  victories  or 
defeats.  Its  officers  and  soldiers,  forts  and  battle 
ships.  But  his  preference  was  for  the  Navy.  Mr. 
Darius  now  remembered  this  and  how  he  had  often 
been  led  in  answer  to  this  enthusiam,  to  read  and  talk 
of  the  many  great  naval  contests  known  to  History. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  one  of  these  interesting  con 
versations  that  the  boy  made  known  his  chosen 
vocation. 

"You  would  like  to  be  a  soldier,  Darius?  To  fight — 
to  kill  ?  And  above  all  you  would  prefer  to  live  at  sea  ? 
Why,  then  do  you  wish  to  go  to  West  Point?  Why  not 
go  at  once  to  some  establishment  wherein  apprentices 
are  trained  for  this  kind  of  work?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  21 

"I  have  thought  of  that,  father,  but  I  know  I  would 
not  like  that  part  of  it.  If  there  was  a  naval  academy 
I  would  prefer  it  to  West  Point;  but  the  main  thing 
is  that  I  want  to  be  a  soldier :  ;Not  to  kill  as  you  put 
it,  but  to  give  my  life  to  my  country's  service." 

"Put  all  such  notions  out  of  your  head;  they  are 
childish  and  you  are  not  yet  old  enough  to  decide  upon 
a  question  which  involves  so  much.  Go  to  Columbia 
for  a  year  or  two,  and  if  at  the  end  of  that  time,  you 
are  still  of  the  same  mind,  we  will  speak  of  it  again." 

But  the  matter  was  not  allowed  to  rest.  The  result 
being  that  the  appointment  was  secured  and  Darius 
had  finished  the  prescribed  course  of  four  years  when 
barely  nineteen  years  of  age. 

Although  proud  of  the  honours  won  by  his  son,  Basil 
Darius  had  a  Quaker's  horror  of  all  things  warlike. 
In  his  estimation  there  was  nothing  even  in  the  life 
of  an  army  officer,  to  make  it  comparable  to  that  of 
a  country  gentleman  living  upon  his  estate.  To  be  sub 
ject  to  orders  separating  a  man  from  his  family — 
forcing  him  from  post  to  post — compelling  him  to  live 
on  hard-tack  and  in  tents.  He  could  have  no  high 
opinion  of  one  whose  lack  of  intelligence  led  him  to 
such  a  choice.  Darius  must  give  it  up.  He,  himself 
had  now  lived  over  the  allotted  period  of  human  life. 
His  oldest  son  was  though  in  middle  life  still  unmar 
ried,  and  otherwise  a  disappointment.  What  was  the 
use  anyway.  There  might  not  be  another  war  for  a 
hundred  years.  All  this  and  more  was  filled  in  the 
pleadings,  and  the  father  had  his  will. 


22  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

Darius  was  in  the  hall  having  the  dust  brushed  off 
his  trousers  and  boots.  He  was  an  extremely  hand 
some  young  man,  looking  to  be  about  twenty-one  years 
old,  but  in  reality  only  a  little  past  nineteen.  Six  feet 
tall,  he  was  of  strong  but  slender  build — slenderness 
and  symmetry  extending  to  his  feet  and  hands;  the 
latter  the  hands  of  a  patrician,  but  of  a  patrician  who 
would  use  them  in  any  manly  way ;  for  though  scrupu 
lously  well-kept  they  showed  signs  of  use.  A  healthy 
sea-coast  complexion — dark,  red  brown  hair — with 
gray  eyes  showing  the  same  tints — well-shaped  mouth, 
owning  a  set  of  good-sized  regular  teeth,  and  nose  of 
the  distinctly  Roman  type,  were  features  of  a  perfect 
head — set  upon  a  good  length  of  neck;  which  in  turn 
adorned  the  splendid  shoulders.  These  were  the  visi 
ble  points  which  formed  the  personality  of  the  young 
man  known  to  his  friends  as  Darius  Basil  Darius. 

Handsome,  distinguished-looking  or  goodlooking;  he 
might  have  been  called  either,  and  yet  he  was  all 
three ; — goodness  and  honesty  coming  out  of  every  line 
and  feature  and  giving  character  to  the  whole  man. 

"I  think  he  went  straight  to  mother's  room.  He 
always  goes  there  first  when  he  has  been  a  long  time 
away,"  said  Andrea,  coming  into  the  vestibule. 

"Come  in !"  called  out  Darius  in  a  voice  corresponding 
with  the  rest  of  him.  "Come  and  shake  hands  with 
me.  I'm  always  glad  to  see  anybody  get  back  alive 
and  unhurt  from  Texas." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  23 

"I  din't  go,"  said  Bathurst.  "I  took  your  advice  and 
bought  the  place  we  looked  at  before  you  left  me.  I'm 
sorry  I  couldn't  go  to  Texas ;  not  to  live  there  just  yet, 
but  to  see  it  again." 

"Then  you  are  still  longing  for  Paradise.  But  don't 
be  sorry,  for  we  might  have  parted  forever;  as  it  is, 
I  may  follow  you  to  Louisiana,  but  hardly  to  any  other 
country  further  west." 

"Wherefore  did  you  come  back  here?" — with  a  swift, 
quizzical  glance  at  his  sister;  who  rose  hastily  as  if 
to  go. 

"Don't  run  away,  Andy,  I've  come  all  the  way  from 
Charleston,  walking  most  of  it  at  that,  to  talk  about 
the  wedding  gown;  and  I  know  James  Paul  has  come 
all  the  way  from  the  land  of  the  terrapin  and  alligator 
to  talk  about  the  wedding.  It  being  no  secret,  I  heard 
as  much  before  I  left  town  this  morning,  and  again 
at  Jacobson's  while  en  route.  Am  I  correctly  in 
formed?"  he  asked,  looking  at  Bathurst. 

"That  is  disposed  of;  our  special  object  now,  is  to 
hear  about  the  duel." 

"Another  delicate  matter  and  an  unpleasant  sub 
ject.  This  is  the  first  time  I've  ventured  to  show  up 
at  this  place,  for  I  hadn't  the  nerve  to  face  father,  and 
I've  found  it  hard  to  meet  some  other  results." 

"No  one  has  been  able  to  learn  the  cause.  I  went  to 
town  on  purpose  to  see  you,  but  no  one  could  tell  me 
anything  of  you,  and  I  felt  a  delicacy  in  making  in 
quiries  of  anyone  but  yourself.  I  was  very  curious 
to  know  what  it  was  about,"  said  Andrea,  inquringly. 

"Was  it  the  usual  provocation,  Darius?"  asked  Paul. 
"Jealousy?  A  woman — was  it  not?" 

"Wait  until  evening  when  we're  all  assembled;  I 
want  to  tell  it  to  you  all  at  once  and  after  that  never 
hear  of  it  again.  I  wish  I  could  get  out  of  it  alto 
gether,"  he  said,  with  a  look  which  showed  he  meant 
it.  "You'll  stay  won't  you,  Bathurst?"' 

"Yes." 


24  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

In  the  diningroom  where  the  sun  shone  brightly 
through  the  windows,  Andrea  saw  in  her  brother's  face 
something  in  the  softer  light  of  the  darkened  hall  she 
had  failed  to  observe — something  which  told  that  he 
had  suffered  more  than  a  slight  difficulty  like  the 
one  he  had  lately  encountered,  would  seem  to  warrant. 
She  saw  that  her  father  also  noticed;  for  with  ready 
tact  he  began  to  speak  indifferently  on  matters  of  less 
personal  interest;  this  while  it  serves  to  remove  a 
slight  embarrassment  failed  in  the  intended  effect. 
The  young  man  made  no  effort  to  appear  cheerful, 
but  sat  in  silent  thoughtfulness. 

"Father,"  said  Andrea,  "Paul  saw  Mr.  Harris  about 
the  sale  of  Polydore,  but  could  do  nothing  with  it. 
Perhaps  Darius — " 

"I  have  already  seen  him,  Andrea.  Father,  he  thinks 
he  has  got  you  in  a  corner,  and  is  prepared  to  squeeze. 
He  knows  Candace  has  some  money  and  he  expects  to 
get  all  that  and  a  great  deal  more  of  yours.  I  told  him 
it  might  turn  out  to  be  small  matter,  as  Candace  ma}7 
decide  not  to  go  for  a  while  yet,  but  join  Andrea  later 
on,  if  she  went  at  all.  If  she  never  goes,  there  need  be 
no  trade.  It  was  a  grain  planted  at  random  but  I 
think  it  will  grow.  We  have  been  showing  ourselves 
too  eager  about  that  trade." 

"I  think  so  myself ;  and  we  have  some  time  yet.  How 
long  will  it  be,  Andrea." 

"On  the  third  of  October,"  said  Paul,  blushing  dark 
ly.  When  Aurelia  laughingly  told  him  that  no  one 
had  spoken  to  him,  Darius  smiled  for  the  first  time; 
which  so  pleased  his  father  that  he  turned  to  him, 
placing  his  hand  affectionately  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
in  the  stilted  phrasing  of  his  day  and  time — saying : 

"It  is  a  doubly  happy  occasion,  my  son,  I  am  glad 
always  to  have  you  sitting  near  me  like  this,  but  it 
seems  like  a  lucky  omen  to  have  you  back  again  on 
the  day  of  Paul's  safe  return." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  25 

"I  am  pleased  with  the  coincidence  myself,  but 
I'm—" 

"You're  not  happy.  Throw  it  off,  my  boy, — cast  it 
to  the  winds !  We  are  all  doomed  to  go  through  some 
thing  of  the  kind  at  least  once  in  our  lives,"  said 
Mr.  Darius,  half  banteringly. 

There  was  no  return  of  humour  in  the  loving  glance 
which  was  the  only  reply ;  and  after  a  serious  pause  of 
a  minute  or  two,  he  gravely  asked: — 

"You  have  been  persecuted  with  questions — have 
you  not?" 

"From  the  first  day  to  the  present,"  was  the  answer. 
"It  has  been  like  running  the  gauntlet  between  two 
very  long  rows  of  savages." 

"Then  come  and  let  us  have  it  over,"  said  his  father, 
kindly. 

The  candles  in  the  great  chandeliers,  and  in  silver 
sconces  on  each  side  of  the  pier-glasses  which  exactly 
faced  each  other  on  opposite  sides  of  the  parlour,  were 
ablaze  with  light. 

This  room  belonged  to  a  wing  in  that  part  of  the  old 
manor  house  erected  by  the  American  branch  of  the 
family  of  Darius  who  came  over  with  other  early  Eng 
lish  colonists  in  the  year,  1680. 

It  was  built  of  stone  and  brick,  with  wide  doors 
reaching  almost  up  to  the  ceiling.  The  windows,  placed 
high  above  the  floor  were  limited  to  three  in  num 
ber — narrow  and  filled  with  small  panes  of  coloured 
glass,  and  an  immense  fireplace  corresponded  with 
the  size  of  the  room,  which  was  forty  feet  long  by 
twenty  wide.  With  some  family  portraits  in  ancient 
frames  of  hammered  brass  upon  the  walls,  and  fender 
and  fire-dogs  of  the  same  metal,  shining  like  gold  in 
the  soft  light  of  many  waxen  candles,  it  seemed  that 
the  plain  old  room  with  its  massive  furniture,  needed 
no  further  adornment. 


26  ALONG  THE)  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"You  all  know  who  Capt.  Moncrieff  is  by  this  time, 
so  I  will  only  say  our  trouble  began  in  Columbia  at  a 
dinner  given  by  the  Cliftons  about  two  years  ago.  I 
was  on  my  way  to  the  dining-room  with  Miss  Ellerbe, 
a  relation  of  theirs;  when  Moncrieff,  also  a  sort  of 
cousin  joined  us;  unceremoniously  coming  between  us 
and  taking  my  place.  Considering  myself  a  mere  boy 
I  withdrew  and  sat  with  a  group  of  elderly  gentlemen 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  He  amused  himself 
throughout  the  whole  time  spent  at  the  table,  by  mak 
ing  me  the  target  of  what  he  took  to  be  witticisms — 
remarks  about  my  name — about  my  uniform — con 
trasting  it  with  his  own,  which  was  rather  a  gay  one, 
he  being  some  kind  of  an  officer  on  his  father's  ship, 
while  mine  as  you  know,  was  the  academy  uniform, 
simple  as  it  is  now.  He  got  scathing  retorts  from  the 
gentlemen  near  me,  but  he  did  not  appear  to  under 
stand  them.  Perhaps  it  was  this  sympathy  which  pre 
vented  me  from  feeling  any  anger  whatever.  Besides, 
there  was  an  imbecility  expressed  in  all  he  did,  said  or 
looked — its  effect  being  increased  by  the  worst  turned- 
up  nose  you  ever  saw." 

"The  affair  at  Robson's  was  like  a  continued  story 
of  what  happened  at  Clifton's,  and  was  as  fully  un 
expected,  as  I  had  forgotten  the  incident." 

"I  was  on  hand  from  the  beginning,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  first  quadrille  of  which  I  had  prompted  the 
figures  in  lieu  of  the  fellow  whose  duty  it  was,  Mr. 
Moncrieff  came  in;  or  I  should  say,  Capt.  Moncrieff, 
as  to  a  certainty  he  is,  of  Her  Majesty's  ship,  Domini 
que  ;  in  naval  uniform  of  the  newest  and  tightest,  and 
with  a  title  of  great  weight  looming  up  in  front  of  him 
down  the  road." 

"I  know  the  family  I  think ;  it  was  a  Capt.  Moncrieff, 
I  believe,  who  had  a  fight  with  Diron  off  the  coast 
of  Georgia,  in  1814.  He  was  after  slaves  to  sell  in  the 
West  Indies,"  said  Mr.  Darius. 

"Oh,  was  he?  A  sort  of  pirate.  I'm  not  at  all  sur 
prised  at  it.  I  am  ready  to  believe  anything  of  him 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  27 

and  his  relatives  just  now,  although  it  will  appear 
that  we  are  possessed  of  some  congeniality  of  taste  in 
the  selection  of  friends ;  for  he  came  up  unhesitatingly 
and  began  talking  to  Miss  Robson.  This  time  I  ignored 
a  former  acquaintance,  and  bowed  without  speaking 
when  introduced — and  as  to  a  stranger.  And  feeling 
no  neutral  ground,  the  Robsons  not  being  his  relatives, 
I  resolved  that  somehow  or  other  I  would  not  permit 
him  to  again  spoil  an  evening.  He  began  at  once  where 
he  had  left  off  at  Columbia.  Speaking  so  low  that  I 
could  distinguish  but  few  words;  the  latter  not  at  all, 
for  they  were  whispered.  Miss  Robson  looked  dis 
tressed  and  annoyed." 

"  'Capt.  Moncrieff  thinks  I  have  mispronounced  your 
name,  Darius.  That  the  second  syllable  should  be  ac 
cented  as  in  Matthias.  What  do  you  say.' 

"  'Mathias  is  a  good  name,  but  mine,  like  Julius  and 
Junius,  is  accented  on  the  first  syllable;  Darius  is  my 
name.'  Again  the  man  bent  forward  whispering — 
almost  brushing  her  ear  with  his  moustache ;  and  with 
the  manifest  intention  of  attracting  attention  to  his 
impertinent  familiarity.  She  drew  away  and  said  in 
a  way  that  would  have  driven  a  decent  man  out  of 
the  house: — 

"  'Capt.  Moncrieff,  you  talk  and  act  like  a  fool ;  it  is 
his  best  feature.  I  think  Mr.  Darius  has  handsome 
features,  and  that  they  suit  best  his  type  of  man.' 
She  blushed  painfully — then  recovering,  added: — 'the 
type  to  which  he  belongs.'  Without  knowing  which 
of  my  features  had  been  criticized,  I  thanked  Miss 
Robson,  profoundly.  The  eyes  of  all  were  centered 
upon  them. 

"  'By  Jove,'  said  Moncrieff,  with  a  loud  laugh.  'Isn't 
it  a  fine  thing  to  win  the  admiration  of  women.  I 
hope  my  nose  suits  my  type  of  man.' 

"  'It  does,'  said  Bob  Ridley.  This  questionable  com 
pliment  was  greeted  with  much  laughter  by  a  group  of 


28  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

young  men  who,  standing  near,  had  easily  heard  all 
that  had  gone  before,  and  a  young  sub-officer  who  had 
come  ashore  with  him,  said  aloud: — 

"  'Look  out,  Captain,  you  are  about  to  lose  your 
wager.' 

"  'No  I  won't,  wait  and  see.' 

"The  subject  of  noses  was  dropped,  but  throughout 
the  evening  to  the  amazement  of  all  her  friends,  Miss 
Robson  devoted  herself  to  the  entertainment  of  this 
one  man;  leaving  the  other  guests  to  the  hospitality 
of  her  mother  and  younger  sisters ;  her  manner  marked 
by  a  giddiness  that  amounted  to  levity ;  and  which  left 
me,  at  least,  with  the  feeling  that  I  had  never  really 
known  her.  I  learned  from  casual  remarks  that  this 
feeling  was  shared  by  others — also  that  it  was  only 
through  her  insistence  he  was  allowed  to  come  into 
the  house — that  is,  at  first;  lately  there  has  been  no 
objection.  Though  of  splendid  physique,  he  is  not 
handsome,  and  would,  if  it  were  not  for  the  badge  of 
rank  on  his  uniform,  be  taken  for  a  common  sailor — 
his  manners  corresponding  with  those  of  the  lowest 
of  the  class  that  figure  at  the  disreputable  dance-halls 
here  and  at  New  Orleans."  Darius  paused;  looking 
downward  as  if  lost  in  deep  thought  and  unconscious 
of  the  presence  of  others  for  so  long  a  time,  that  An 
drea,  to  arouse  him,  asked: — 

"And  then— Darius?"     He  laughed  a  little. 

"And  then — I  could  neither  understand  it  nor  help 
it: — so  I  kept  out  of  range — fearing  that  anything  I 
might  say  would  bring  about  a  fight.  From  some 
cause  Moncrieff  was  not  present  when  supper  was 
announced.  I  had  been  dancing  with  Bettie  Ware, 
who,  after  Miss  Robson,  was  the  prettiest,  and  with 
out  exception  the  youngest  unmarried  lady  present; 
and  to  whom  as  there  had  been  no  mention  made  of 
any  kind  of  order  in  going  to  the  table,  I  had  given  my 
arm.  Turning  to  follow  other  couples  leaving  the  por- 
lors,  Miss  Caroline  stopped  us,  saying: — 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  29 

"  'Come  with  me,  Darius, — Bettie  is  listed  to  go  with 
Capt.  Moncrieff.'  Taking  the  girl's  hand  from  my 
arm  and  substituting  her  own,  she  gave  her  a  little 
push  on  the  shoulder,  saying: —  'Wait  for  Capt. 
Moncrieff.' 

"There  was  nothing  else  for  Miss  Ware  to  do.  She 
sat  down  to  wait.  At  first  I  was  amused,  but  Caro 
line  began  at  once  to  speak  excitedly  and  hurriedly, 
with  her  face  flaming  red.  'I  can't  afford  to  lose  your 
friendship,  Darius,  you  must  tell  me  at  once  if  you  are 
vexed  with  me.  I  want  to  know  the  cause.'  Without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  she  went  on  as  if  beside  herself — 
'I  can  not  account  for  it.  Once  we  saw  each  other 
every  day;  but  now  you  give  me  no  time  for  a  word, 
and  I  have  so  much  to  say.  I  want  to  tell  you — ' 

"She  got  no  farther,  for  at  that  moment  Moncrieff 
joined  us — grinning. 

"I  will  go  down  to  supper  with  you,  Mr.  Dairyman, 
as  we  did  in  Columbia.' 

"  'No,  Capt.  Moncrieff,  you  will  not  go  down  to  sup 
per  with  me  as  you  did  in  Columbia.  Miss  Robson 
said  you  were  to  take  Miss  Ware,  and  she  is  waiting.' 
Miss  Ware  was  in"  hearing  distance  and  looking  at 
him  expectantly;  and  when  he  said,  'You  can  take 
Miss  Ware,  yourself,  for  I  am  going  to  take  Miss  Rob- 
son.'  I  lost  my  head  and  temper  at  the  same  time, 
and  turning  my  back  on  him  I  asked  Caroline  if  she 
would  permit  me  to  go  with  Miss  Ware, — if  so,  to  save 
her  feelings,  I  would  go  back  and  get  her, — 'but  if  you 
still  wish  it,  we  will  go  on.'  she  said  as  if  frightened, 
'I  will  go  to  supper  with  Capt.  Moncrieff.' 

"As  I  turned  to  go  for  Miss  Ware,  who  was  now 
entirely  alone  in  the  parlor,  Moncrieff  said — speaking 
loudly  and  bending  back  to  look  at  some  one  in  the 
hall— 

'  'Won  again !    By  Jove !' 

"This  boast  was  followed  by  a  horse-laugh  from  a 
couple  of  cronies  in  our  rear.  It  was  now  plain  what 
the  young  officer  meant  by  'the  wager.'  He  had  done 


30  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

very  nearly  as  he  had  done  in  Columbia — but  with  a 
difference — he  would  pay  for  it.  Asking  Miss  Ware 
to  wait  a  moment,  I  ran  after  the  couple,  now  almost 
to  the  supper  room,  and  trying  to  look  unruffled,  asked 
Miss  Robson,  if  she  wouldn't  excuse  Capt.  Moncrieff 
for  a  minute  or  two. 

"'Certainly,'  she  answered — surprised:  'But  why?' 

Of  course  I  didn't  say. 

"He  followed  me  with  an  expression  of  amused  in 
quiry  and  astonishment  to  the  veranda.  A  half-dozen 
men  were  showing  there,  in  the  glare  of  the  hall 
lamps, — leaning  upon  the  railing  or  standing  and 
waiting  for  their  turn  to  go  to  the  dining-room.  A 
little  to  the  side  of  the  entrance  stood  the  Ridley  broth 
ers: — and  then  happened  what  you  have  already 
heard.  You  have  also  heard  of  his  exposure  and  dis 
grace,  brought  about  by  the  Ridleys  and  a  score  of 
others  who  were  witnesses  of  his  cowardice  when  he 
took  flight  on  the  morning  when  he  should  have  met 
me  in  'deadly  combat,'  "  said  Darius — laughing,  it  is 
true,  but  without  mirth  and  as  if  he  would  rather  it 
were  otherwise: — as  if  he  would  even  now  like  to 
meet  him  in  deadly  combat. 

The  others  had  withdrawn  and  Darius  was  alone 
with  his  father.  The  elder  man  pondering  upon  the 
uses  of  adversity  and  of  "purification  so  as  by  fire." 
What  a  good  man  this  son  of  his  would  one  day  be. 
How  glad  he  was  that  he  would  never  be  a  soldier. 
Although  from  the  beginning  bitterly  opposed  to  giv 
ing  up  his  chosen  career,  on  the  first  appeal  to  his 
filial  love,  he  had  abandoned  all  further  contention. 
"My  dear,  dear  son !"  thought  Basil  Darius :  "I  wonder 
if  it  could  be  that  I  was  wrong!"  For  looking  at  the 
dejected  figure  before  him,  he  saw  that  here  was  not 
the  shadow  of  a  boy's  repentance  for  an  excusable 
fault,  but  something  more  like  the  gloom  which  goes 
with  the  deep,  hopeless  and  lasting  grief  of  a  man. 

"What  is  it,  Darius?" 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  31 

"It  is  a  great  deal  worse  than  you  imagine — can 
imagine,"  he  replied,  with  pallid,  stiffening  lips.  "It 
is  bad  enough,  if  that  were  all,  to  admit  even  to  myself, 
that  I  am  what  all  good  people  believe  me  and  every 
man  like  me  to  be — a  murderer — but  that  is  what 
I  suppose  I  am." 

"Oh  no,  no — not  that !  Do  not  encourage  too  tender 
a  conscience.  Do  not  call  it  that.  Say  rather  that  it 
was  a  short-lived  temptation  due  to  the  blind  rage  of 
the  moment;  you  are  glad  that  you  killed  no  one,  and 
that  you  yourself  were  not  killed?" 

"I'm  not  certain  of  being  glad  of  either  one  of  the 
other  just  now;  though  I  hope  to  get  back  to  the  time 
when  I  felt  like  a  Christian;  but  it  is  heavier  than — ! 
You  know  the  Moorish  dagger  you  keep  locked  up  in 
your  cabinet — ?" 

"Yes.  It  belongs  to  Candace: —  a  wicked  looking 
thing,  but  perhaps  the  most  valuable  article  in  the  col 
lection.  What—?" 

"I  thought  of  it — I  would  have  used  it." 

"With  your  surroundings  at  the  time — you  would 
have  used  it?" 

"I  would  not  have  hesitated.  I  am  afraid  I  will  do 
it  yet." 

"Then,  Darius,  there  is  much  more  back  of  it  than 
I  know." 

"Much  more,"  covering  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
bowing  his  head  upon  the  table  before  him. 

"I  have  sometimes  thought  there  was,  but  only  on 
her  part — the  difference  in  your  ages — you  mentioned 
that  in  a  way  that  misled  me.  I  do  not  yet  under 
stand." 

"I  did  not  want  the  others  to  know;  yet  when  I 
gave  them  to  understand  that  she  had  never  given 
me  cause  to  believe  she  preferred  me  as  a  lover,  I 
spoke  truly ;  but  that  night  I  saw  it  all : — her  love  and 
despair  came  near  breaking  all  bounds.  The  levity 
and  giddiness  I  so  cruelly  spoke  of  to-night  were  like 


32  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

the  delirium  of  insanity;  which,  while  it  showed  me 
my  own  heart,  awoke  a  fear  and  suspicion  that  mad 
dened  me.  This  feeling  in  a  cooler  moment  I  dis 
missed,  and  wrote  to  her  asking  if  I  might  call — tell 
ing  her  that  I  had  heard  the  family  were  displeased 
at  my  having  so  nearly  made  their  house  the  scene 
of  a  brawl — and  was  afraid  to  come  without  permis 
sion.  'No  reply/  was  the  answer  brought  back  by 
the  boy  sent  with  my  note.  Moncrieff,  who  had  ac 
tually  taken  a  room  in  the  house,  received  the  note — 
and  returning — gave  the  answer. 

"Knowing  that  false  reports  were  in  circulation,  I 
got  Ridley  to  go  the  same  evening  to  put  me  right  with 
her.  She  gave  him  Moncrieff's  version  of  the  diffi 
culty;  which  was  in  all  but  one  or  two  points,  the  re 
verse  of  the  true  one.  'Nearly  every  word  of  that  is 
a  lie,  Miss  Caroline,'  said  Bob. 

"  'We  didn't — neither  Darius,  nor  George  and  I,  in 
tend  to  say  much  about  that  rumpus,  but  if  that's  his 
game — here  goes !'  He  began  at  the  first  and  told  her 
exactly  the  truth  about  it.  She  began  to  cry;  she  had 
been  made  to  believe  I  had  made  defamatory  remarks 
about  her.  Bob  said: — but  I  will  give  you  his  own 
words — 

"  'I  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  and  said.  Do  you 
believe  that,  Miss  Caroline?  You  have  known  Darius 
all  his  life,  and  yet  you  can  say  that?  I'll  assure  you 
that  instead  of  being  the  cause,  you  had  no  personal 
concern  in  the  quarrel ;  at  least  it  would  have  been  the 
same  had  it  been  any  other  young  lady.  The  trouble 
began  over  two  years  ago  and  grew  out  of  matters  not 
connected  with  any  persons  present  here  at  the  dance.' 
This  and  much  more  besides,  made  me  fear  that  a 
reconciliation  was  only  to  be  gained  by  a  face  to  face 
interview.  Moncrieff,  said  to  be  afraid  to  come  out, 
would  be  apt  to  be  there  at  all  hours,  otherwise  I 
would  have  gone  in  person  at  first. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  33 

"  'That  would  have  been  the  better  way.  It  would  be 
best  now.  For  I  see  how  it  is  with  you;  and  such 
beauty  and  gentleness  will  always  stand  over  the  trif 
ling  inequality  of  two  or  three  years  difference  in 
age.' 

"That  is  what  I  have  to  tell  you — "  said  Darius 
moistening  his  lips,  "if  God  will  grant  me  voice  and 
words  to  do  it.  Bob  came  running  to  overtake  me  on 
the  street  an  hour  later  and  said: — 'I  hope  you  won't 
take  it  as  meddling,  Darius,  but  don't  go  to  Robson's 
for  a  while  yet.  I  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  Miss 
Caroline — and  it  might  be  better  to  trust  to  an  ac 
cidental  meeting  away  from  home.'  He  appeared  to 
be  embarrased,  and  after  talking  awhile  on  this  subject 
we  changed  to  others.  But  of  course  I  did  not  go. 
After  staying  at  Sam's  a  few  days  I  went  hunting  on 
the  coast;  sometimes  with  one  and  another,  but  most 
often  alone.  Yesterday  evening  I  got  a  man  to  take 
me  across  the  inlet  to  Folly  Island, — taking  my  gun. 
It  was  growing  late  and  finding  no  game  I  started 
back.  There  was  one  boat  only  and  it  was  leaving  for 
the  other  shore,  loaded  to  its  full  capacity.  The  boat 
man  called  out  that  he  could  not  come  back,  but  would 
be  sure  to  return  for  me  within  the  hour. 

"Out  of  the  sand-dunes  around  this  little  cove,  there 
rises  a  little  heap  of  stones,  with  a  coarse  granite 
gravel  or  sand  about  its  base,  but  windblown  clean  of 
all  else.  I  found  a  good  seat  on  the  farther  side,  and 
laying  aside  my  gun  sat  down  to  rest.  Very  tired  I 
went  to  sleep;  in  how  many  minutes  I  couldn't  guess, 
I  was  awakened  by  voices  on  the  other  side,  not  ten 
feet  away,  in  high  dispute.  I  heard  my  own  name; 
bewildered — I,  at  first  did  not  know  them  as  belong 
ing  to  Caroline  Robson  and  Capt.  Moncrieff .  I  would 
go  away — but  in  my  hurry  my  hat  fell  off,  slipping 
between  the  rocks;  in  the  growing  dusk,  it  took  me 
sometime  to  find  it,  and  it  took  much  longer  to  fish 
it  out  with  my  ramrod.  I  could  not  help  hearing  the 
words  spoken  so  close  to  me.  My  man  was  calling  me 


34  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

and  I  hurried  away.  When  I  got  to  the  landing,  there 
was  another  boat  tied  there.  I  got  into  the  one  wait 
ing  for  me  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  even  if  seen,  I 
was  not  recognized  by  the  couple  left  behind." 

"What  was  said,  Darius?" 

"She  was  pleading  with  him  to  marry  her,  and  he 
told  her  he  had  a  wife  in  Liverpool.  There  was  some 
thing  else  she  said,  which  I  will  never  repeat." 

Basil  Darius  looked  down  at  the  folded  hands  upon 
his  lap,  with  contracted  brow  and  half -closed  eyes; 
as  if  unwilling  or  unable  to  lift  them  to  the  agonized 
face  before  him  Without  raising  them  he  asked: — 

"Do  you  think  this  is  known  to  anyone  else? — or 
suspicioned?" 

"If  not  now,  it  is  liable  to  be;  for  he  will  boast.  I 
think  Ridley — Bob — not  George — has  an  inkling  of 
something  very  wrong,  but  not  the  fullest  extent  of 
it — for  when  he  told  me  it  would  be  better  for  me  to 
stay  away,  he  said  something  I  did  not  attach  much 
importance  to  at  the  time,  but  it  came  forcibly  to  my 
memory  yesterday  evening: — he  wondered — 'How 
such  an  allover,  damned  idiot  ever  attained  such  an 
ascendency  over  a  sensible  girl  like  Caroline  Robson. 
A  man,  on  the  maternal  side  at  least,  is  of  the  lowest 
origin.  Having  once  lived  here,  there  are  many  who 
remember  seeing  him  with  other  wharf-rats  of  the 
same  age  and  size,  playing  along  the  harbor.  When 
five  or  seven  years  old  the  family  disappeared,  and 
it  was  not  until  about  two  years  ago  that  he  turned  up 
again  as  sub-officer  in  a  company  of  marines  on  board 
a  little  ship  belonging  to  the  merchant  and  mail 
service.' " 

It  was  twelve  o'clock.  A  high,  cool  wind  was  blow 
ing  fine  drops  of  rain  in  little  showers  through  an 
open  window.  Mr.  Darius  arose  and  closed  it.  Re 
seating  himself,  after  a  troubled  silence  of  several 
minutes  he  asked,  gravely: — 

"How  are  you  going  to  bear  this,  Darius?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  35 

"How  will  I  bear  it — ?  Suddenly  awakened  from 
sleep,  and  dazed  by  the  horrible  meaning  of  what  I 
had  heard,  I  could  hardly  think  what  to  do;  emotions 
following  each  other  like  flickering  flashes  of  light 
ning — rage — jealousy — pity,  and  coming  in  the  order 
named — the  two  first  prompted  me  to  club  my  gun 
and  kill  them  both;  but  I  think  I  made  up  my  mind 
before  I  found  my  hat;  it  is  always  so  in  emergencies, 
I  believe,  if  there's  any  mind  left  present  at  all.  It 
came  over  me,  that  as  much  as  anyone  else,  I  was  an 
outsider — that  I  had  no  right  to  interfere.  It  struck 
me  like  a  mortal  blow;  but  after  all  it  is  for  her  that 
I  feel  most  concerned — the  entire  hopelessness  of  her 
plight — the  inevitable  wreck  and  ruin  of  her  beautiful 
life!  She  would  better  be  dead!" 

"I  can  not  say  that.  I  would  rather  see  her  take  up 
her  life  as  it  was,  or  as  nearly  as  possible  as  it  was,  and 
by  living  as  a  Christian,  atone  for  wrongs  inflicted 
upon  others — parents,  sisters  or  friends — wrongs  for 
which,  try  to  find  it  as  you  may,  there  is  no  reasonable 
excuse." 

Consoled  by  his  father's  heartfelt  sympathy  and 
kindness,  Darius,  relieved  at  least,  of  a  part  of  his 
burden,  slept  heavily  through  the  remaining  morning 
hours;  for  it  had  been  long  after  midnight  when  they 
parted.  Just  at  sunrise,  his  father  came  into  the 
room;  and  after  softly  closing  the  door  came  to  his 
bedside  and  bent  over  him — listening — not  caring  to 
disturb  him,  if  sleeping. 

"I  am  awake,  father;  I  had  just  awakened  when  you 
came  in.  Is  anything  wrong?" 

"I  will  tell  you,  and  you  may  judge.  Polydore  came 
last  night;  being  detained  by  the  rain  it  was  after 
midnight  before  he  reached  here.  Candace  tells  me 
that  it  is  feared  that  both  Capt.  Moncrieff  and  Caro 
line  Robson  have  been  drowned.  They  were  known  by 
the  family — and  by  the  crew  of  the  Dominique  which 


36  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

had  just  come  into  harbor — to  have  gone  on  a  boat- 
ride,  and  were  pretty  far  out  when  last  seen,  which 
was  on  Friday,  early  in  the  afternoon;  probably  two 
or  three  hours  before  you  saw  them.  Some  fishermen 
coming  back  early  with  their  catch,  to  be  in  time  for 
the  evening  market,  gave  the  information.  The  Rob- 
sons  waiting  until  a  late  hour  in  the  night  found  the 
suspense  intolerable  and  began  the  inquiry  at  once, 
and  continuing  the  whole  day  following,  without  even 
so  much  as  a  clue." 

"Did  Polydore  learn  what  was  feared — I  mean  of 
course — had  there  been  any  suggestion  of  another  pos 
sible  cause  for  their  disappearance?" 

"I  think  not;  with  the  same  idea,  I  asked  Candace 
if  it  weren't  likely  they  might  be  at  the  house  of  a 
friend.  No;  all  the  officers  and  crew  were  out  in 
boats — searching  all  yesterday;  besides  every  citizen 
who  could  get  a  boat  was  helping." 

"I  believe  I  will  go,  father,  for  I  may  be  of  some 
use;"  said  Darius,  beginning  to  dress.  "I  recall  that 
the  couple  were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  a  point  due 
eastward  after  clearing  the  sand-bars  in  the  harbor. 
The  island  is,  you  know,  quite  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Perhaps  no  one  has  thought  of  going  round  the  island. 
If  you  will  have  a  horse  saddled,  father,  I  will  go 
straight  through  to  Dawson's;  he  has  a  boat,  and  it 
will  be  nearer  by  ten  miles.  What  is  it — ? — Come  in 
Polydore."  Polydore  had  been  passing  and  heard. 

"Don't  go  that  way,  Mahse  Darius,  dere  was  a  party 
jus'  startin'  for  dem  islan's  when  I  lef,  an  dat's  been 
twelve  hours  ago.  De  bes'  way  is  to  go  straight  to 
town;  de  chances  is  dat  dey  done  foun'  bofe  o'  dem 
people  by  this  time."  Andrea  came ;  hurriedly  running 
up  stairs. 

"Mother  says,  don't  think  of  going  until  after  break 
fast,  which  will  be  ready  in  five  minutes;  and  Paul's 
team  will  be  at  the  gate  by  the  time  you  are  done  eat 
ing.  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,  but  mother  forbids." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  37 

At  first  starting,  Paul  had  looked  curiously  at  Dar 
ius,  whose  bearing  now  was  in  no  way  different  from 
his  own;  if  changed  at  all  since  last  evening,  he  was 
more  quietly  composed  in  manner,  and  no  longer  ap 
peared  like  one  overwhelmed  by  sorrow.  He  was 
puzzled.  He  had  gone  to  sleep  the  night  before,  seri 
ously  believing  that  here  was  a  case  of  disappointed 
love,  which,  following  so  soon  upon  the  enforced  res 
ignation  of  a  chosen  vocation,  might  paralyze  all  other 
worthy  ambitions;  yet,  excepting  a  more  strongly  ex 
pressed,  intense  desire  to  know  the  best  or  the  worst 
that  had  befallen  Miss  Robson,  he  had  not  differed 
from  the  others  of  the  family.  A  difference,  that 
could  be  accounted  for  in  more  ways  than  one;  well — 
he  hoped  so. 

Mrs.  Bathurst  was  at  the  gate.  There  had  been  so 
many  contradictory  reports,  she  was  going  down  to 
the  waterside  to  see  for  herself. 

"They  are  found,"  said  an  old  gentleman,  a  stranger, 
who  a  moment  before  had  stepped  aside  on  the  pave 
ment  to  let  her  pass.  "You  mean  the  young  man  and 
the  young  woman  for  whom  they  have  been  search 
ing?  Their  bodies  were  found  on  the  beach, — but 
about  a  hundred  yards  apart;  and  their  boat  a  mile 
out  at  sea — bottom  upwards."  "Then  they  are  dead! 
Oh,  how  sad!"  said  Paul. 

"Do  you  know  at  what  point?  In  what  direction?" 
asked  Darius. 

"A  little  to  the  southwest,  on  the  south  side  of  one 
of  the  Sea  Islands — Folly  Island,  I  think  they  told 
me. — Very  sad  affair!" — bowing,  and  moving  on. 

"Folly  Island!"  Paul,  I  will  go  to  the  stables  for 
my  own  team  and  go  back  at  once, — the  family  will 
want  to  know,"  said  Darius,  in  his  old  way  and 
manner. 

"I  do  not  believe  they  were  ever  really  lovers,"  said 
Mrs.  Bathurst. 

"I,  also,  have  begun  to  doubt  it,"  said  Paul,  looking 
after  him. 


38  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Darius  walked  blindly  in  the  direction  of  the 
stables: — seeing  nothing  but  a  rock-built  pyramid 
against  a  background  of  giant  palmetto  trees;  and 
hearing  nothing  but  the  music  of  their  long  leaves — 
longer  than  any  man  is  tall — as  with  rhythmic  cadence 
they  were  caught  up  by  the  wind  and  carried  up 
ward — aloft — spreading  out  and  falling  downward  in 
a  shower  together : — rising — returning — repeating ; — 
again  and  again !  Beyond  this  he  could  not  go.  Heart 
and  brain  revolted.  But  like  a  sweet  refrain,  there 
came  with  each  repetition  of  the  weird  sea-music,  the 
words  he  had  heard  in  answer  to  Moncrieff's  taunting 
rebuff : — 

"Now  that  it  doesn't  matter  in  one  way  or  another, 
I  will  say  that  I  do  love  Darius.  I  have  always  loved 
him!" 

"Like  a  man  suddenly  deprived  of  a  leg  or  an  arm, 
he  realized  at  once  the  finality  and  priceless  value  of 
what  he  had  lost  and  with  the  impatience  of  youth 
tried  to  shake  off  the  burden  of  sorrow,  though  even 
now  convinced  that  it  would  be  with  him  until  his 
dying  day. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  39 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A  WEDDING  GOWN  OF  1835. 

"Come  Andy,  and  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to 
wear.  Let  us  compare  ideas,"  said  Darius  in  his  most 
business-like  manner.  "Sit  down." 

"I  know  I  will  fall  in  with  yours,  however  we  may 
differ  at  first.  I  will  begin  by  telling  you  what  I  have 
already  done.  I  have  finished  a  white  muslin — thread 
cambric — so  called  because  it  is  pure  linen.  The  label 
on  the  edge  shows  that  it  was  made  in  France.  It 
comes  in  three  pieces  of  just  the  right  length.  Just 
nine  inches  above  the  bottom  of  each  breadth  is  an 
horizontal  row  of  beautiful  embroidered  sprays  of 
flowers — in  white  of  course — giving  the  effect  of  a 
continuous  band  all  round  the  skirt;  below  this  band 
is  a  hem-stitched  flounce  of  the  cambric." 

"That  must  be  beautiful." 

"It  is.  The  waist  is  high  with  a  low-cut  lining — 
the  lining  also  embroidered.  The  sleeves  close  fitting, 
with  puffs  at  the  top  having  the  same  ornamentation 
as  the  skirt.  The  cambric  is  so  fine  it  has  the  appear 
ance  of  gossamer."  . 

"And  the  veil,  Andrea?"' 

"The  veil  is  of  Mechlin — two  yards  long — and  one 
and  a  half  wide.  It  was  Grand-ana's." 

"The  veil  is  the  best  part  of  what  you  have  so  well 
described,  that  I  see  it  as  in  a  picture.  But  it  will  be 
a  combining  of  the  ancient  with  the  modern — the  sim 
ple  with  the  magnificent.  It  will  not  do.  We  will 
take  the  veil  for  the  basis  or  key-note  of  the  toilette. 
The  gown  you  have  finished  will  not  be  out  of  place 
at  home  on  a  summer  evening  or  at  a  tea,  or  when 
you  sit  with  your  husband  around  the  lamp  with  your 
work-basket  or  your  book.  But  to  match  the  costly 


40  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Mechlin  veil,  you  must  have  a  soft,  heavy  brocade  the 
color  of  old  ivory — neither  shining  nor  dull,  but  of  a 
kind  which  reflects  the  colours  of  the  objects  in  the 
same  room — as  from  a  red  curtain  there  would  show 
a  faint  pink  glow  in  the  fabric,  and  from  a  yellow  cur 
tain — a  glimmer  of  that  colour." 

"I  saw  just  such  a  piece  of  silk  when  in  town  last 
week,"  said  Andrea.  "But  it  was  very  high  priced." 

"That  does  not  matter — we  will  buy  it.  Of  the  bro 
cade — the  pattern  must  be  somewhat  large.  The  skirt 
of  such  a  gown  should  be  quite  long.  Not  a  preposter 
ous  train  like  that  rich  Mrs.  Briggs  wore  at  her  last 
wedding,  but  as  the  present  mode  allows  for  a  church 
wedding  here.  You  will  be  married  at  St.  Michael's?" 

"Yes,  mother  insists  upon  that." 

"So  much  for  the  skirt.  The  waist  should  be  cut 
low  and  coming  heart-shaped  to  a  point  in  the  center 
of  the  front?  Have  you  any  Mechlin  lace?" 

"Darius,  you  are  a  wonder.  Mother  has.  It  is  in 
several  widths.  I  begin  to  see  that  my  trousseau  will 
be  worth  hundreds.  It  would  never  have  occurred  to 
me  to  use  this  lace.  It  can  be  used  to  trim  the  waist 
and  sleeves  by  taking  the  narrow  part  for  a  ruff — 
and  the  wide  for  the  sleeves." 

"Very  well: — use  the  narrow  piece  about  the  neck, 
but  not  as  a  ruff — something  smaller,  higher  at  the 
back  than  at  the  front,  and  fixed  so  it  will  not  be  apt 
to  fall  down.  I  will  get  the  brocade — at  L — s,  did  you 
say — ?"  taking  pencil  and  book  from  his  pocket.  "It 
will  be  my  gift.  And  the  jewels,  Andrea?" 

"The  medallion  necklace  of  pearls  and  diamonds: — 
the  first  married  daughter  always  gets  those.  Darius, 
you  are  the  best  brother — and  the  most  wonderfully 
interesting  man  I  ever  heard  of.  How  I  will  miss  you 
— all  of  you." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  that  you'll  miss  me — I've  half  a 
mind  to  go  with  you — more  than  half  a  mind.  I'm 
tired  of  the  idle,  purposeless  life  I've  lived  since  I  left 
college.  I  don't  like  any  of  the  professions: — if  I 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  41 

did,  I  would  take  a  turn  at  some  university.  I  do  not 
want  to  farm,  at  least,  here ;  and  father  is  urging  me  to 
move  my  negroes  onto  the  new-ground  they  have  late 
ly  cleared ;  as  their  support  begins  to  bear  too  heavily 
on  the  proceeds  of  this  plantation.  Yet  while  I  have 
no  inclination  for  idling,  I  have  an  abhorrence  for  the 
proposed  change.  I  could  not  endure  such  a  life  as 
Sam  seems  to  find  a  Heaven  upon  earth.  His  hides  of 
every  animal  under  the  sun — his  stuffed  fowls  and 
mummified  creatures  of  all  sorts — his  live  birds  and 
animals,  and  the  smell  of  it  all.  Oh!  it  looks  like  in 
sanity.  I  am  afraid,  Andrea,  that  you  and  Sarah,  of 
all  our  father  and  mother's  children  are  level-headed. 
Look  at  my  last  plunge.  Could  anything  beat  that 
for  idiocy?  Sam  has  added  another  room  to  the  crazy 
thing  he  calls  his  museum,  and  has  named  it  "The 
department  of  horticulture."  He  is  also  beginning  a 
botanical  garden,  and  is  going  to  get  Olsen  to  take 
charge  of  the  farm,  while  he  makes  a  visit  to  the  Dis 
mal  Swamp  to  complete  some  work  he  began  there  last 
year.  And  Aurelia  chasing  butterflies!  I  was  afraid 
to  ask  what  was  the  matter  with  her." 

"I  hope,  Darius,  you  do  not  consider  all  this  as 
signs  of  weak-mindedness  in  either  one  of  them.  Sam 
is  a  genius,  and  there's  method  in  his  madness — and 
Aurelia  catches  the  butterflies  for  Sam,"  said  Andrea, 
her  sweet  voice  ringing  out  in  healthy,  hearty  laughter. 

"That  may  be,  but  it  shows  a  bleak  outlook  for  the 
old  age  of  both,  however  the  cause  may  differ;  in 
Sam's  case,  his  experiments  cost  a  good  deal  of  money, 
and  the  poor  old  negroes  can  not  make  it.  They  are 
nearly  always  clothed  with  patches,  and  Sam  himself 
looks  like  a  scarecrow." 

"You  are  not  counting  the  half-grown  boys  and 
girls,  already  quite  strong  enough  to  do  the  work  of 
men  and  women.  This  winter  they  will  all,  from  the 
largest  to  the  least,  be  well  clothed.  You  remember 
that  Sam  made  five  hundred  dollars  by  selling  goose- 
feathers  last  year," 


42  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Goose-feathers !     How  ?" 

"Didn't  you  know?    Aurelia  said  she  wrote." 

"Yes,  but  she  called  it  furs !  She  said  Sam  has  made 
a  big  deal  in  furs." 

They  both  stopped  and  laughed  for  several  minutes. 

"That  was  to  put  a  good  face  on  it.  It  was  goose 
feathers — bales  of  them  from  all  over  the  country." 

"What  was  his  object?  Wasn't  the  money  used  for 
the  aviary?" 

"Yes,  so  it  was;  and  for  the  apiary;  and  the  pro 
ceeds  from  the  sale  of  honey  this  year  will  more  than 
clothe  his  negroes." 

"It  is  a  relief  to  know  it,  Andrea,  but  what  with  his 
churlishness  and  that  Italian  woman,  always  on  guard 
at  the  front  door,  I  never  get  back  among  his  house 
hold  gods.  It  may  be  a  mark  of  genius  to  be  gruffly 
silent  or  downrightly  rude,  but  it  isn't  brotherly.  Poor 
old  Sam!" 

"Poor!  Not  at  all.  No  one  can  be  called  poor  who 
is  so  happy  as  he." 

"Glad  of  it.  But,  Andrea,  as  I  said  before,  I've 
more  than  half  a  mind  to  go  with  you." 

"Really,  Darius?  Paul,  do  you  hear  that?  Darius 
really  thinks  of  going  with  us !"  Paul,  who  was  start 
ing  for  home,  came  up  to  them. 

"The  best  thing  in  the  world  for  him.  Urge  him  to 
do  it,"  at  the  same  time  holding  out  his  hand  to  take 
leave.  "Go  with  us  to  Jacobson's  in  the  morning, 
Darius,  and  see  our  van." 

"No  need,  I  know  it  by  heart — there  are  two  of 
them.  (Put  down  your  hat,  you'll  stay  here  to-night.) 
Who  owns  the  other  one?" 

"The  unfinished  one  is  mine — the  other,  built  after 
the  same  plan,  belongs  to  Redmond  Harris,  Jr.  He 
left  it  there  for  sale,  and  has  ordered  a  larger  one, 
intended  for  a  hunting-wagon." 

"Then  fortune  plays  to  my  hand — I'l  buy  it." 

"Oh,  Darius!    You  are  really  going!" 

"I  am  really  going." 


(THE  STORY  OF  CANDACE.) 

Samuel  Darius,  grandfather  of  Andrea  Darius,  wish 
ing  to  add  to  the  number  of  negroes  on  his  coast  plan 
tation,  was  at  the  slave-market  in  Charleston,  on  a 
cold  November  morning,  1794.  The  number  was  un 
usually  large  and  naked.  Looking  around  for  the  most 
promising  among  them,  he  had  selected  a  family  of 
nine — the  father,  mother  and  seven  well-grown  child 
ren,  when  he  observed,  standing  apart  from  the  others, 
two  singular  creatures.  They  were  greatly  cleaner 
and  wore  clothing,  and  enveloping  their  heads  were 
lengths  of  dingy  white  cloth,  leaving  to  view,  their 
faces  only: — the  features  of  which,  marked  by  come 
liness,  were  not  those  of  the  negro ;  although  they  were 
nearly  as  black.  Their  faces  were  narrow,  their  noses 
high,  lips  thin,  eyes  black  and  brilliant  and  their  teeth 
dazzling  white. 

"What  are  these?"  heasked.  "They  can't  be 
negroes." 

"They  are  black  enough  and  they  pass  for  that." 
He  answered.  "But  nobody  seems  to  want  them." 

"What  do  you  call  yourselves?"  asked  Mr.  Darius. 
They  smiled  but  did  not  answer. 

"Try  Spanish,"  said  the  dealer,  slyly. 

"Of  what  nation  are  you?"  asked  Mr.  Darius  in 
Spanish. 

"The  boy  and  girl,  for  they  were  little  more,  clasped 
each  other's  hands  and  cried: — "Oh,  Master,  we  are 
Indians!  Buy  us  master, — we  like  your  face!" 

"What  kind  of  Indians  are  you?  What  is  your  tribe, 
and  how  is  it  you  are  slaves!" 

The  girl  spoke. 

"We  are  Cubans — we  come  from  the  native  island 
ers;  we  are  not  negroes.  See  our  hair!  She  un 
covered,  and  the  long  raven  hair  fell — its  coil  extend 
ing  below  her  waist.  "We  were  slaves — but  we  had 
been  freed." 


44  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"How  is  it  that  you  are  here?" 

The  boy  looked  on  the  ground  and  said  in  low 
tones: — "The  men  on  the  ship, — they  stole  us." 

"You  will  want  to  go  back?" 

"We  will  want  to  go  back.  But  oh,  master,  buy  us ! 
We  will  work  out  the  debt;  we  will  pay  back  the 
money.  I  will,"  said  the  boy.  "I  will  trust  you."  Mr. 
Darius  explained  to  the  dealer  the  nature  of  the  agree 
ment  and  paid  three  hundred  dollars  for  the  two.  They 
were  not  brother  and  sister  as  he  had  at  first  sup 
posed,  and  that  night  after  their  arrival  at  the  planta 
tion,  the  girl  produced  a  Catholic  Manual  of  Prayer, — 
a  certificate  of  baptism  clasped  within  it,  and  a  locket 
in  which  was  the  picture  of  a  beautiful  Spanish  face; 
this  was  attached  to  a  necklace  or  golden  chain  and 
had  escaped  the  notice  of  those  who  might  have  plun 
dered  it,  by  being  wrapped  in  the  bundle  of  clothes 
she  carried. 

"My  Mistress,"  she  said — showing  on  the  reverse 
side  of  the  case,  the  name,  "Candace"  engraven  in 
pretty  letters.  "It  was  my  mother's  name,  and  it  is 
also  my  name,"  she  explained  in  Spanish. 

"Poor,  unfortunate  creatures,"  said  Mrs.  Darius. 
"We  will  see  that  they  get  back  to  their  friends."  But 
this  was  not  to  be.  Several  months  after  this  the  young 
couple  were  married  by  a  priest  of  the  Catholic  faith 
in  Charleston.  They  were  given  a  separate  house  on 
the  plantation. 

They  were  quick  to  learn,  and  pretty  soon  could  not 
only  speak  but  read  and  write  intelligently.  The  year 
passed,  and  they  had  paid  their  debt. 

Six  months  more,  and  Mr.  Darius  informed  them 
that  not  only  was  there  enough  money  earned  to  pay 
their  pasage  home  but  to  live  upon  until  they  could 
find  employment. 

"Do  you  want  us  to  go,  Master — ?" 

"If  you  will  be  happier  there,  Marco ;  but  there  is  no 
one  on  this  plantation  who  wishes  you  to  go.  Even  the 
negroes  love  you  and  Candace." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  45 

"Then  I  will  go  and  water  my  flowers,"  said  Marco, 
laughing.  "Candace  is  in  the  garden, — I  will  tell  her, 
I  will  not  wait,"  he  said,  bounding  away  like  a  deer. 

Mrs.  Darius,  as  well  as  other  members  of  the  family, 
had  been  gathering  together  little  gifts  of  less  or 
greater  value — some  to  serve  as  keepsakes  and  others 
for  future  service  when  the  couple  had  reached  Hav 
ana,  the  port  for  which  they  were  bound.  These  Can- 
dace  had  placed  in  her  room,  often  looking  them  over 
with  great  pride  of  possession ;  but  the  feeling  was  not 
unmixed,  for  often  they  had  been  put  aside,  especially 
of  late,  with  sighs — and  sometimes  tears.  Now — 
when  Marco  had  told  her,  she  had  rushed  into  the  room 
where  Mrs.  Darius,  her  daughter  and  a  seamstress 
were  at  their  needlework,  and  cried  out  joyously,  as 
she  knelt  before  her  mistress  and  clasped  her  knees : — 
"I  am  not  going,  dear  mistress,  I  am  going  to  stay  here 
with  you,  as  long  as  I  live.  The  master  told  Marco  we 
need  not  go."  Alas !  It  was  not  for  long. 

In  the  year  1800  they  had  a  little  girl  born  to  them, 
and  they  gave  her  the  mother's  name — Candace.  When 
she  was  four  years  old  a  fever  ravaged  the  coast,  and 
when  it  had  done  its  worst,  the  little  Candace  had 
neither  father  nor  mother.  She  was  duly  informed  of 
the  relation  in  which  she  stood  to  the  family  and  her 
family  relics  turned  over  to  her  when  she  was  old 
enough  to  understand;  she  was  quite  well  educated 
and  gifted  besides  with  some  lovely  traits  of  character ; 
among  which  were  an  affectionate  nature  and  a  dog- 
like  fidelity,  united  with  a  great  self-esteem  and  truth 
fulness.  She  had  also  a  delicacy  of  perception,  tact — 
and  unimpeachable  modesty. 

Mrs.  Darius  felt  great  concern  regarding  her  choice 
of  a  husband ;  even  so  far  as  to  consult  a  friend  living 
there,  upon  the  probable  advantage  of  a  visit  to  Hav 
ana;  a  visit  that  would  give  the  girl  an  opportunity 
of  meeting  and  associating  with  those  of  her  own  kind. 
But  she  was  quickly  relieved  of  all  anxiety  on  this 


46  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

score.  On  a  neighboring  plantation,  was  a  young  negro 
of  or  about  her  own  age ;  who  was  in  personal  appear 
ance  as  different  in  type  from  others  of  his  race  as  was 
Candace  herself,  different  from  the  African.  He  was 
slight  in  figure,  with  features  similar  to  those  of  Can- 
dace,  and  with  hair  which  was  only  slightly  crisped. 
He  was  a  mixture  of  the  Florida  Indian  and  the  negro. 
A  born  musician,  he  had  learned  to  read,  and  she  had 
taught  him  to  write.  But  he  had  the  African  dialect 
and  joyous  irresponsible  nature  and  nothing  could 
change  either.  Mrs.  Darius  did  not  quite  like  the  match. 
"But,  Candace,"  she  said  in  remonstrance,  "he  is  a 
negro — he  is  black." 

"Oh,  Mistress;  what  am  I  but  black?"  This  with  a 
peal  of  laughter.  "Dear  mistress,  do  you  wish  me  to 
marry  a  white  man?  I  could  never  love  anyone  but 
Polydore,  and  he  seems  to  worship  me.  I  can  do  any 
thing  I  like  with  him,  except  correct  his  language.  He 
knows  better,  but  he  will  not  change  that: — but  how 
beautifully  he  plays  on  the  violin,  and  how  well  he 
dances." 

"You  are  very  young,  Candace,  and  you  must  re 
member  that  you  are  not  a  slave  and  that  Polydore  is ; 
and  that  also  you  own  a  considerable  amount  of 
money." 

"More  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  I  told  master 
yesterday  that  I  would  pay  for  Polydore,  but  he  would 
not  agree  to  it,  and  said  that  he  really  preferred  to 
take  the  risk." 

"We  think  it  would  be  best  for  you  to  keep  your 
money  for  awhile  yet — although  it  might  mean  imme 
diate  freedom  for  your  husband  if  you  bought  him 
yourself.  There  are  objections  to  that,  Candace,  which 
it  would  take  time  and  many  words  to  explain ;  but  you 
will  understand  more  nearly,  when  I  tell  you  that 
should  Polydore  prove  worthy  of  you,  his  freedom  is 
an  assured  certainty,  as  soon  as  the  fact  becomes 
known: — if  he  wishes  it.  Another  argument  in  favor 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  47 

of  it  is — that  it  is  in  our  power  to  accomplish  by  an 
exchange,  this  purchase, — an  exchange  which  will 
bring  comfort  to  Adah  and  her  children,  as  well  as 
to  her  husband." 

"You  don't  like  to  tell  me,  but  I  know,  mistress,  that 
you  are  a  little  doubtful  of  Polydore,  and  you  want  to 
do  what  is  best  for  me.  It  would  make  me  love  you 
better,  if  I  could  love  you  more,  but  I  would  not  be 
afraid  to  buy  him."  She  began  to  laugh. 

"I  told  him  last  evening,  that  if  he  would  talk  like 
white  folks,  I  would  buy  him.  He  said  he  would  begin 
right  off.  I  then  said  to  him : — "Do  you  know,  Poly 
dore,  when  I  buy  you — you  will  be  my  slave? — and 
he  said: — 

"  'I  is  now,  Candace.' ' 

She  threw  her  apron  over  her  head  and  laughed 
helplessly.  They  had  been  married  now  for  many 
many  years,  and  though  he  could  speak  English  sur 
prisingly  well,  he  clung  to  the  negro  dialect.  It  had 
been  from  the  first  a  source  of  intense  amusement  to 
her.  This  conversation  had  taken  place  over  twenty 
years  ago,  and  now  the  question  had  again  come  up. 
Polydore  had  remained  with  the  Harris  family,  and 
the  exchange  had  not  been  made.  Again  Candace  had 
offered  to  pay  for  him — meeting  with  the  same  oppo 
sition. 

"I  will  buy  him,"  said  her  present  master.  "He  can 
have  his  freedom  the  next  day  after,  if  either  he  or 
you,  or  both  of  you,  demand  it.  But  keep  your  money." 

"Darius,  don't  you  think  you  might  be  able  to  settle 
this  troublesome  question.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  will 
ever  be  quite  at  home  anywhere,  without  Candace, 
and  I  have  an  almost  superstitious  fear  about  parting 
with  her.  Can  nothing  be  done?"  asked  Andrea. 

"I  will  go  over  to  Harris'  place  this  morning.  I  told 
him  a  day  or  two  ago  tnat  we  had  made  our  final  offer. 
He  wanted  to  talk  to  Paul  about  it  afterwards,  and  I 
think  from  what  he  said,  that  you  can  count  on  suc 
cess." 


48  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

This  trade  was  accomplished,  and  Polydore,  duly  in 
stalled  in  his  new  home,  was  already  making  tents 
with  the  skill  of  an  Arab;  and  also  looking  after  the 
firearms  and  fishing  tackle  as  well.  Six  weeks  later 
the  overland  journey  had  been  made.  Since  that  time 
many  years  had  come  and  gone  and  many  visits  to 
the  old  home  were  received  and  returned,  and  many 
tours  planned  for  pleasure  and  profit,  both  by  land 
and  water,  yet  Paul  had  not  been  able  to  realize  his 
cherished  dream  of  living  in  Southwest  Texas: — now 
more  than  ever,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  the  land  of 
hope  and  of  promise. 


It  was  late  in  the  year  1853.  The  Bathurst  had  now 
a  family  of  six  children.  Basil,  a  handsome  lad  past 
sixteen — Henry,  near  fifteen.  Coming  next,  Felix  and 
Felicia  were  twins: — Felix  dying  at  the  age  of  three 
years,  Felicia  the  only  daughter  was  now  thirteen. 
Francis,  George  and  Caspar  Darius  were  respectively, 
eleven,  nine  and  seven. 

They  had  lived  at  Lake  Providence  seventeen  years 
in  unbroken  prosperity  and  also  in  uninterrupted  hap 
piness,  except  for  the  grief  at  the  death  of  Felix. 

There  had  been  great  rejoicing  at  the  birth  of  these 
children.  They  were  barely  a  day  old  when  Paul 
named  them. 

"At  last  I  can  honour  the  memory  of  my  grandfath 
er."  There  will  be  none  to  croak  and  cry  "Traitor"; 
it  will  be  doubly  honoured,  for  both  children  will  in  a 
manner  bear  his  name.  Felix  and  Felicia.  The  boy 
was  the  sprightliest  of  all  their  babies — even  more  so 
than  the  girl.  Although  of  different  sex  they  were 
so  nearly  alike  as  to  make  it  difficult  for  even  their 
parents  to  distinguish  them  one  from  the  other.  And 
when  asked,  as  was  often  the  case  when  their  ribbons 
of  different  colors  were  left  off,  as  to  their  identity, 
the  little  fellow  would  always  deny  his.  "Which  is  it?" 
or  "Who  is  it?"  was  always  answered: — 


'Darius,  you  are  the  best  Brother,  and  the  most  wonderfully  interesting  young  man  I  ever  heard  of. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  49 

"I'm  Felicia — the  girl,"  shutting  tight  his  eyes  and 
laughing  at  the  always  successful  joke. 

As  they  grew  older  their  names  were  oftener  more 
or  less  indiscriminately  used,  and  the  little  girl  being 
puzzled  would  give  her  name  as  Felix,  and  was  oftener 
called  by  it  than  her  own. 

This  evening  Darius  was  absent — supposed  to  be 
at  his  plantation  a  mile  above,  on  the  lake.  Felicia 
was  visiting  a  friend.  The  family  had  had  their  tea 
without  waiting  for  them,  and  the  long  table  cleared, 
were  sitting  with  their  books  around  the  lamp; 
Paul  reading,  and  Daisy  playing  with  his  blocks  on 
the  hearth  rug.  Andrea  with  her  hands  folded  over 
the  work  in  her  lap,  was  looking  at  them  through  the 
wide  door  connecting  the  two  rooms.  Their  study  hour 
would  soon  be  over  and  they  had  been  working  dili 
gently,  with  now  and  then  an  exclamation  from  one  or 
the  other  of  them  a  knotty  point  requiring  explanation 
— a  question  asked — but  on  the  whole  they  had  been 
very  quiet.  Their  mother  was  thinking  of  them — 
chiefly  of  their  faults — of  how  much  had  been  done  to 
correct  them  and  how  much  more  was  still  to  be  done. 
Were  they  good  boys?  She  could  not  say  that  they 
were  not.  Had  they,  so  far,  been  wisely  trained  ?  Had 
she  as  well  as  Paul,  done  her  duty?  She  believed  so. 
In  the  long  run,  were  uiey  superior  to  other  children — 
or  different?  Superior? — she  believed  not;  but  perhaps 
both  superior  and  different  in  some  respects  to  others 
not  subjected  to  the  rules  of  college  life,  for  in  this 
house  there  was  a  strict  discipline  of  which  the  child 
ren,  themselves  were  unconscious,  and  of  which  outside 
appearances  gave  no  hint,  but  its  efficiency  could  be 
read  in  the  results.  Paul,  the  acknowledged  head  of 
the  house,  when  looking  over  the  assembled  brood, 
often  congratulated  himself  upon  the  possession  of 
such  children,-— they  were  just  as  he  would  have  them 
— in  person  and  otherwise.  Basil,  it  is  true,  was  irreg 
ular  of  feature  and  red  headed,  but  he  was  a  straight, 


50  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

well  made  fellow — and  tall;  not  as  good  at  his  books 
as  he  might  be,  but  Henry  made  up  for  that.  The 
others  were  nice  little  chaps,  and  Felix  was  a  beauty. 

"All  told,"  he  would  say  to  Andrea,  "I  feel  like  pat 
ting  myself  on  the  shoulder  when  I  see  them  in  a 
group."  And  she?  She  laughed — and  did  not  dispute 
the  inference;  but  her  thoughts,  nevertheless,  ran 
in  this  wise : —  "Let  him  think  he  does  it ;  but  there's 
something  comically  military  in  the  way  they've  been 
drilled, — from  the  time  each  one  left  the  cradle  until 
now — walking,  sitting,  standing, — riding,  eating,  talk 
ing, — it  shows : — and  they  like  it ;  and  so  used  to  it  are 
they — it  seems  natural  and  easy.  It  is  natural  and 
easy;  even  Felix  sometimes  looks  like  a  little  soldier." 
The  systematic  regularity  in  the  ways  of  the  house 
hold  was  in  part  due  to  this  governing  influence.  She 
grew  grave.  Could  her  great  gain  have  grown  out  of 
any  corresponding  loss  of  his?  For  she,  if  not  Paul, 
knew  where  the  credit  was  due.  It  might  be  so;  but 
certainly  not  through  any  fault  of  hers.  Darius  was 
very  much  of  a  man,  and  since  his  majority  been  with 
out  doubt,  the  arbiter  of  his  own  destiny. 

"Paul,I  have  been  thinking  what  our  lives  might 
have  been  without  Darius.  I  do  not  mean  that  you  and 
I  would  have  been  unhappy  in  any  event,  but  how  good 
he  has  been  to  us  and  the  children !  How  they  love  and 
obey  him !" 

"They  can't  do  either  too  well.  But  how  strange 
he  has  never  married.  He  is  near  thirty-five.  That 
is  no  great  age  it  is  true,  but  he  seems  never  to  have 
contemplated  matrimony  and  to  have  no  future  inten 
tions; — he's  a  settled  man.  I  never  knew  a  man  so 
courted  by  women : — widows  to  begin  with — young  and 
old;  single  women  in  all  stages  of  girlhood  and  old 
maidenhood — both  openly  and  covertly,"  laughed  Paul. 

"He  must  have  loved  some  one,"  said  Andrea,  also 
laughing.  "It  could  not  have  been  Caroline  Robson." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  51 

"I  have  made  several  attempts  to  find  out; — only 
to  learn  that  even  a  beloved  brother-in-law  may  go  too 
far.  He  is  of  a  kind  who  would  conceal  a  wound  of 
that  nature.  An  Indian  trait  you  might  say, — but  cer 
tainly  one  to  be  respected.  I  have  always  looked  upon 
Miss  Robson's  conduct  in  the  Moncrieff  case,  as  of  a 
sort  to  repel  a  man  of  refinement.  But  as  I  said  be 
fore,  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn  anything  from 
Darius." 

"Yet  in  all  other  things,  he  is  as  open  as  the  day," 
said  Andrea,  thoughtfully.  "But  after  all  there  may 
have  been  no  one.  I  really  believe  Darius  could  well 
have  been  a  clergyman  in  our  own  church,  or  even  a 
priest  of  the  Roman  Church,  if  he  belonged  to  it.  In 
either  capacity  he  would  have  done  his  duty — he  would 
have  been  faithful  to  his  vows." 

Paul  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"You  are  probably  correct  in  both  suppositions.  He 
could  have  been  either — but  never  from  choice — if  I 
know  anything  about  him.  He  is — " 

He  hesitated. 

"Go  on,"  said  Andrea,  frowning. 

"Well — about  the  priest.  You  know  Darius  must 
often  be  tempted  as  it  is — but  yes, — it  might  be;  he 
is  a  man  with  an  iron  will — and — " 

"Stop,  Paul,  we  won't  go  into  that.  I  don't  care  to 
conjecture,  being  satisfied  with  what  I  see;  especially 
in  this  case." 

"So  am  I.  As  I  have  already  said,  I  know  very  little 
of  this  case;  but  speaking  from  knowledge  acquired 
from  a  man's  point  of  view,  I  may  tell  you  it  some 
times  happens — and  perhaps  more  frequently  than  is 
generally  believed — that  a  man  forms  but  one  such  at 
tachment  in  a  lifetime;  but  this  by  no  means  goes  to 
prove  he  will  not  marry,  or  if  unmarried  he  must  nec 
essarily  become  an  anchorite — "  A  light  flashed  from 


52  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

the  hall  through  the  transom ;  Andrea  opened  the  door 
of  the  entry.    It  was  Hypolite  hanging  up  an  overcoat. 

"Has  your  master  come,  Hypolite?" 

"Yes,  Madame;  he  is  talking  to  the  cook  about  the 
birds,"  said  the  man,  a  singularly  good-looking  negro 
of  thirty, — slim,  coal  black,  and  with  but  slightly 
crisped  hair  and  side-whiskers.  He  spoke  in  good  Eng 
lish,  with  a  French  accent  peculiar  to  the  negroes  of 
New  Orleans. 

"You  have  been  hunting?" 

"No,  Madame;  there  are  six  of  the  birds;  they  have 
been  picked  and  drawn  and  they  are  tame  pigeons. 
Mrs.  Merger  gave  them  to  us."  There  was  the  hint 
of  a  joke  in  the  glance  and  silent  laughter  which 
showed  the  large  white  teeth.  A  peculiar  cast  in  one 
of  his  eyes  accentuated  the  expression. 

Darius  came  in.  The  boys  were  putting  up  their 
books — intending  to  go  to  bed — but  they  lingered.  An 
drea  started  kitchen-ward. 

"Never  mind  about  the  birds,  Andrea,  I've  done 
everything."  She  came  back. 

"Isn't  it  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  pet!  They  are  the 
largest  kind  of  fine,  fat  squabs.  Laid,  set  on  and 
hatched — picked  and  drawn — for  me — and  me  only; 
but  I  will  divide." 

"Who  did  it?"  asked  Daisy,  who,  also  had  lingered. 
The  others  giggled. 

"A  Divine  providence  who  takes  care  of  good  boys. 
Go  to  bed.  Get  out — all  of  you — and  go  to  bed."  They 
arose  at  once  and  decorously  withdrew. 

"Do  tell  me  who  gave  you  the  pigeons,  Uncle  Dar 
ius,"  asked  Basil,  lagging  behind  the  others.  "It  can't 
be  a  secret." 

"Mrs.  Munchausen." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  53 

"Oh,  then  you  can't  be  sure  they're  pigeons.  Good 
night." 

"What  was  it  this  time?  What  kept  you?"  asked 
Paul. 

"  'French  Spoliation  Claims' — French  Fours — and  a 
waltz.  I  tried  to  get  off  at  the  first  square  dance,  but 
was  cornered  and  had  to  waltz  with  Miss  Merger.  It 
was — it  was — "  he  stopped  for  a  minute  or  two,  over 
come  with  laughter. 

"Tell  us  what,  Darius.  It  was — ?"  laughed  Paul  in 
sympathy. 

"It  was — oh — a  nice  waltz,"  jumping  up  and  put 
ting  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Andrea,  did  Felix  come  home?" 

"No,  I  thought  she  would  come  with  you." 

"I  didn't  go  that  way.  Paul,  I  believe  it's  past 
eleven,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "I'll  go  to  bed.  Good 
night." 

"Who  are  the  Mergers,  Paul?  I  know  one  or  two  of 
the  family  by  sight,  but  have  never  met  them  at  any 
of  the  houses  I  visit.  Are  they  quite  respectable." 

"I  believe  they  may  be  that;  but  I  know  very  little 
of  them.  There  is  no  Mr.  Merger;  the  family  con 
sists  of  a  mother,  several  daughters  and  one  or  two 
little  boys.  They  have  some  money  and  pretend  to 
have  much  more.  It  is  rather  a  gay  place  I  believe; 
and  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  town — a  little  beyond  its 
limits.  They  have  not  been  there  long.  The  daughters 
are  very  pretty,  and  the  chief  desire  of  the  mother  is 
for  them  to  marry  well,  if  possible,  and  if  not  well — to 
marry.  And  it  is  said  they  talk  of  ancestry,  future 
legacies,  land  investments,  etc.  They  would  be  more 
worthy  of  respect  if  they  would  leave  out  half  of  it. 
Langley  says  it  is  coming  to  be  well  known  that  Mrs. 
Merger  is  a  liar.  No  softer  word  can  be  found." 


54 


"It  would  be  unfortunate — it  would  be  simply  ter 
rible  for  any  honest  man  to  be  entrapped  by  a  family 
like  that,"  said  Andrea,  uneasily. 

"It  would  indeed;  it  might  spoil  the  breed  for  cen 
turies.  How  glad  I  am  the  danger  isn't  coming  our 
way." 

"Do  you  know  that  it  is  not?  Are  the  young  women 
really  pretty?  Have  you  seen  them?" 

"I  have  seen  them.  One  of  them — Caroline — I  think 
she  is  called,  is  something  more  than  pretty ;  she  might 
be  called  beautiful.  But  there  is  no  cause  for  alarm." 


Ea) 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  55 

CHAPTER   V. 

A  TRAGEDY. 

The  Bathursts  had  just  returned  from  Charleston, 
when  an  unfortunate  occurence  took  place  at  the  acad 
emy  in  which  Felicia  was  a  boarder.  And  which,  un 
locked  for  and  unsuspected,  was  enacted  under  the 
very  eyes  of  the  principal  and  other  teachers. 

This  was  the  elopement  of  one  of  the  pupils,  the 
daughter  of  a  noted  statesman,  who  lived  at  a  distance 
below  on  the  river.  A  mere  child  of  sixteen  years, — 
she  had  gone  off  with  a  man  who  had  long  been  known 
along  the  river  as  a  disreputable  gambler  of  the  lowest 
class.  This  circumstance  caused  the  loss  of  all  but  the 
day  scholars,  of  which  it  is  true  there  were  many, — but 
every  boarder  was  taken  from  the  academy  in  less 
than  two  weeks  after  the  contretemps.  The  school  was 
five  miles  from  the  Bathurst  place  and  Felicia  was  at 
once  summoned  home. 

"What  is  best  to  do  now?  Where  will  we  put  her?" 
asked  Andrea  of  Darius. 

"What  do  you  think  of  a  governess?" 

"Favourably,  if  of  the  right  sort; — that  was  my  first 
thought;  but  of  all  I  have  yet  considered,  I  know  not 
one,  who,  if  willing  to  take  the  place,  could  meet  its 
requirements." 

"What  of  Miss  Dorcas  Bryce?" 

"She  woud  not  accept." 

Others  were  named,  their  qualities  discussed, — 
weighed  and  found  wanting. 

"Perhaps  James  Paul  knows  of  some  one: — a  man, 
— one  who  could  teach  the  younger  boys  and  Felix  at 
the  same  time.  What  do  you  say,  Jeames?"  Paul, 
who  had  a  book  in  his  hand,  arose  and  stood  near  them. 

"It  would  not  be  best.  It  would  not  do  at  all.  Felicia 
must  have  some  of  the  accomplishments  of  lady,  and 


56  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

while  home  influences  can  not  be  over-estimated,  there 
are  some  agreeable  results  to  be  expected  from  the  daily 
association  and  competition  with  the  young  of  her  own 
sex." 

"Don't  fear  that  I  have  gone  into  this  rashly,  An 
drea;  I  asked  the  Langleys  a  hundred  questions  about 
convents,  they  are  Catholics,  as  you  know,  and  there 
remains  little  that  I  do  not  know  about  convent 
schools.  In  addition  to  this  he  gave  me  a  circular. 
Another  thing  to  consider,  Darius,  is  that  the  life  we 
lead  here  in  our  home  would,  to  a  great  degree  inter 
fere  with  the  studies  of  the  children.  Our  dancing, 
hunting,  card,  and  dinner  parties  would  not  allow  even 
the  boys  a  fair  opportunity.  Private  teachers  are  well 
enough,  but  there  is  nothing  so  good  for  boys  and  girls, 
from  the  age  of  twelve  years  up  to  maturity,  as  a  school 
in  which  the  classes  are  carefully  graded.  Of  course 
Andrea  could  teach  Felicia  every  thing  she  ought  to 
learn — but  it  would  tax  her  strength  severely  and  de 
prive  her  of  her  winter  visits  to  New  Orleans  and  in 
terfere  with  those  to  other  resorts  of  summer.  I  have 
thought  of  a  convent." 

"Oh,  Paul!— A  convent?" 

"Why,  Andrea,  are  you  opposed  to  a  convent?" 

"Not  exactly  opposed  to  it,  but  surprised  to  hear  you 
advocate  it.  I  think  it  a  strange  thing  for  a  man  of 
your  near  Huguenot  ancestry  to  even  mention  with 
favor — a  convent." 

"It  shows,  my  darling,  that  I  am  not  troubled  with 
absurd  prejudices.  This  convent  was  recommended 
to  me  by  Langley,  whose  daughters  graduated  there 
last  year.  He  could  not  apparently  find  words  suffi 
ciently  strong  in  praise  of  it." 

"I  met  the  Misses  Langley  at  Vicks — they  have 
pretty  manners.  But  where  is  it  Paul — the  convent?" 

"In  Kentucky  N n  in  L Co.  The  pres 
ent  Mother  Superior  is  of  good  family — an  accom 
plished  lady  and  thorough  disciplinarian.  I  can  think 
of  nothing  better,"  continued  Paul.  "And,  dearest, 


57 


if  you  are  willing  and  Darius  also  approves,  we  will 
send  Felicia  there  as  soon  as  she  can  be  made  ready. 
The  sooner  the  better,  that  she  may  begin  with  the 
first  week  of  the  term" — taking  an  envelope  from  his 
pocket — "here  is  one  of  the  circulars,  Darius." 

"How  will  she  go?"  asked  Andrea. 

"By  steamboat,  and  I  will  take  her.  Mrs.  Langley 
says  it  is  best  to  take  but  few  clothes.  They  wear  a 
uniform." 

"Who  wear  a  uniform,  father?"  asked  Felicia,  com 
ing  in  with  the  troop  of  brothers. 

"The  girls  at  N n,"  taking  the  pretty  little 

face  between  both  hands.  "The  little  girls  who  are 
to  be  your  companions  until  you  are  grown  up." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go,  mother?  Are  you  willing 
to  part  with  me?"  said  the  child  with  quivering  lips. 

"To  part  from  you? — that  will  be  very  bad?"  said 
her  mother,  smiling.  "But  my  little  girl  must  be  edu 
cated  and  we  must  make  up  our  minds  to  be  separated, 
for  a  short  time." 

Uncle  Darius  was  reading  the  circular  aloud  to  the 
boys,  who  had  gathered  round  him,  listening  eagerly 
and  plying  him  with  questions ;  it  was  certainly  to  be 
a  great  event. 

For  a  time  Felicia  sat  with  tightly  closed  lips,  pale 
face  and  tearful  eyes ;  but  at  last  becoming  more  com 
posed — she  joined  them. 

Her  father  explained  that  she  might  come  home  quite 
often; — Mr.  Langley  had  told  him  how  it  was  man 
aged.  Why,  it  would  be  but  three  months  until  the 
Christmas  holidays.  She  would  come  home  then. 
There  would  be  many  girls  from  the  plantations  below 
on  the  river,  who  would  also  be  coming  home  at  Christ 
mas  tide.  Some  member,  of  one  or  the  other  of  the 
families  living  at  these  plantations,  was  always  selected 


58  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

to  go  to  the  convent  and  take  charge  of  the  young 
ladies,  who  wished  to  come  home.  It  might  be  a 
father,  brother  or  friend.  This  person  would  deliver 
each  one  to  friends  waiting  at  given  points  on  the 
river. 

"Perhaps  Uncle  Darius  might  be  chosen  to  go.  Now, 
darling,  doesn't  it  sound  better?" 

For  answer  she  rose  and  hugged  him  tightly  round 
the  neck. 

"For  shame,  sister !  Don't  you  want  to  go?"  asked 
Henry,  the  student.  "They  teach  so  many  things  you 
want  to  learn.  They  teach  free-hand  drawing.  You 
know  you'll  like  that,  and  French;  the  circular  says 
they  have  a  native  born  French  woman  to  teach  that." 

"I'm  going  to  try  to  want  to  go,"  said  she,  resolutely. 

At  length  the  day  of  departure  came.  Uncle  Darius 
and  the  older  boys  in  one  carriage,  driven  by  Hypolite ; 
Paul,  Andrea,  Felicia,  and  Kaspar  in  another,  driven 
by  Yorke,  awaited  the  coming  of  the  steamer  at  the 
landing  at  Lake  Providence.  They  had  left  the  car 
riages  and  were  standing  on  the  platform,  when  the 
lights  of  the  steamer  afar  down  the  river  became  vis 
ible;  and  soon  the  regular  puffing  sound  of  escaping 
steam  could  be  heard: — the  voices  of  the  pilot  and 
crew, —  then  the  screaming  of  signals  and  grating 
noises  of  landing  told  that  the  hour  of  parting  had 
come.  Hitherto  the  boys  had  always  been  on  the  alert 
to  watch  the  steamers  and  other  craft  going  up  and 
down  by  day  and  by  night,  as  they  passed  over  the 
long  stretch  of  river  visible  from  their  door-step.  It 
was  fine  sport;  but  it  was  with  other  feelings  they 
waited  the  coming  of  this.  They  were  all  grave;  but 
beyond  that,  Basil  did  not  show  unusual  concern,  and 
Daisy  (Kaspar)  was  too  young  to  know;  but  Felicia 
remembered,  as  long  as  she  lived,  Henry's  pale  face, 
and  cold,  trembling  hands,  and  the  grief  of  Francis 
and  George — whom,  after  running  wildly  around  in 
the  dark,  she  found  sobbing — hidden  behind  one  of  the 
carriages.  It  was  soon  over;  and  they  seemed  to  feel, 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE   ROUTE  59 

as  well  as  see,  the  darkness  of  the  big  river  as  it  closed 
round  and  swallowed  the  boat  that  carried  away  their 
only  sister.  And  she  ?  What  was  it !  Why  was  it  she 
could  not  rest?  It  was  not  of  the  others  she  thought — 
it  was  of  Henry's  white  face  and  the  sobs  of  her 
younger  brothers — and  with  a  pain  in  her  heart  that 
would  not  let  her  go  to  sleep.  It  was  long  after  mid 
night  when  the  regular  plashing,  made  by  the  great 
water-wheels  brought  relief. 

Waking  at  daylight,  she  dressed  and  went  out  on 
the  guards;  and  leaning  upon  the  railing  was  looking 
down  the  fog-clouded  river,  when  a  girl  of  apparently 
her  own  age,  came  out  of  the  farthest  off  state-room. 
She  wore  a  black  frock,  and  her  long  heavy  plats  of 
blonde  hair  were  tied  with  black  ribbon.  She  came 
directly  up  to  where  Felicia  was  standing;  and  began 
talking. 

"You  are  looking  back?  I  come  from  New  Orleans. 
I  get  up  early  every  morning  and  look  back; — some 
times  I  cry.  Come  and  let  us  sit  down  on  this  bench. 
You  got  on  last  night — where?" 

"At  Lake  Providence.  I  live  there.  I  am  going  to 
school  at  N n  convent  in  Kentucky." 

"I  am  going  to  Kentucky  too — to  Owensboro.  I  am 
a  Hollander.  My  parents  are  dead,  and  I  am  going 
to  live  with  my  grandmother;  she  is  not  up  yet.  My 
name  is  Annecke  Vermeulen.  What  is  yours?" 

Felicia  told  her  name.  They  were  already  ac 
quainted;  in  a  short  time  they  were  good  friends. 
There  being  no  other  children  on  board  they  were  con 
stantly  together.  Madame  Vermeulen  could  not  speak 
English.  She  was  a  little  bent  old  lady,  who  wore  a 
black  dress  of  the  finest  and  softest  cashmere  which 
trailed  on  the  carpet  as  she  walked  to  and  fro  in  the 
cabin. 

There  were  other  ladies.  Two  sisters — elderly 
maiden  ladies  who  lived  in  Philadelphia  and  were  go 
ing  home.  Paul  spent  many  hours  in  the  ladies'  cabin, 
talking  with  them,  for  they  had  read  many  books. 


60  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

There  were  three  young  laides  returning  from  a  vaca 
tion  to  a  school  in  Louisville.  Besides  there  was  a 
young  mother  whose  whole  time  was  taken  up  with 
her  baby.  Then  there  was  another,  who,  after  the 
first  day  had  been  regarded  by  the  two  little  girls  with 
great  timidity.  This  person  was  a  young  woman 
dressed  in  a  bright,  light  blue  merino  gown,  trimmed 
with  white  braid.  Her  hair  was  red  and  her  too  prom 
inent  eyes  looked  like  she  had  wept  recently.  And  it 
was  observed  that  she  drank  wine  freely;  having  it 
brought  often  to  her  state-room.  On  the  first  evening 
when  Felicia  and  Annecke  were  sitting  beside  each 
other  on  the  guards,  this  person  had  brought  a  chair 
and  seating  herself  near  them,  began  to  talk.  The 
stewardess,  a  neat  mulatto  woman,  with  her  daughter, 
also  a  mulatto  with  many  short  plats,  was  going  by 
loaded  with  linen  for  the  state-rooms,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  she  stopped — called  the  children  to  her  and 
with  a  mysterious  look,  whispered : — 

"You  must  not  sit  by  that  lady ; — you  must  not  speak 
to  her!"  and  then  she  had  gone  abruptly  about  her 
business. 

But  the  little  girls  were  curious,  and  returning  to 
the  cabin  they  went  to  the  back  door  and  for  some  time 
scrutinized  her  with  close  attention. 

"Why  do  you  think  the  stewardess  said  that?"  asked 
Annecke. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Felicia. 

They  went  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  boat  and  no 
sooner  were  they  seated  than  the  girl,  Jenny,  came 
along  with  a  duster  and  stopping  and  bending  over 
them,  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  on  a  forbidden  topic : — 

"Do  you  know  why  my  ma  told  you  that?" 

Both  looked  inquiringly. 

"Because  dat's  a  "Loafer  Lady."  You-all  musn't 
talk  wid  her."  She  rolled  up  her  eyes,  and  shaking 
her  head,  went  on. 

"What  is  it?  —  that  'Loafer  Lady,'  questioned 
Annecke. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  61 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Let  us  see,"  said  Annecke,  getting  her  English 
dictionary. 

They  searched  in  vain.  The  lexicographer  did  not 
know  of  the  "Loafer  Lady." 

"Loafer,  an  idle  man,  a  vagrant,"  read  Felix — and 
continuing : — 

"It  is  a  man;  there's  nothing  said  about  idle 
women: — but  perhaps  it  may  mean  any  one  who  has 
no  employment  and  dresses  in  too  bright  colors." 

But  when  at  luncheon,  one  of  the  waiters  seated 
them  next  this  person,  Paul  had  risen  from  his  place 
by  the  Captain  and  led  them  to  another  place  some 
distance  down  the  long  table,  they  noticed  the  act  and 
connected  it  with  the  warning  of  the  stewardess;  and 
when  at  Cairo  they  left  the  big  steamer  to  take  a  small 
er  Ohio  river  boat,  they  looked  back  to  cheering 
friends,  and  saw  her  standing  far  apart,  desolately 
alone,  Annecke  said : — 

"Poor  'Loafer  Lady!'  I  will  never,  never  wear  a 
frock  like  that." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Felix. 

One  day  from  Louisville  brought  them  to  the  end 
of  their  journey,  and  Paul  staying  only  long  enough  to 
see  Felicia  well  established  in  the  convent  turned  his 
face  homeward,  thankful  that  the  wrench  of  parting 
was  over. 

It  was  nearing  the  Christmas  holidays  when  the 
news  of  the  death  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darius  came.  There 
had  been  no  previous  warning.  Both  had  been  slight 
ly  ailing  for  only  a  few  days,  when  the  end  came  sud 
denly;  there  being  only  one  day  of  their  parting.  "It 
was  just  as  they  would  have  wished  it,"  said  Andrea, 
whose  grief  for  a  time  was  excessive,  Darius  being 
compelled  to  go  back  alone.  Not  that  she  was  one 
to  nurse  grief,  but  notwithstanding  all  previous  warn 
ing,  the  blow  had  seemed  sudden  and  it  would  take 
sometime  to  recover  from  the  shock.  Felicia,  who 
had  from  choice  remained  at  the  convent  on  account 


62  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

of  some  extra  studies,  had  been  told.  Learning  the 
sad  news  on  a  Saturday  she  was  in  her  place  on  the 
following  Monday;  and  but  for  a  black  dress  and  a 
certain  serious  and  constant  attention  to  her  lessons, 
there  was  no  outward  change.  Such  in  truth  was  her 
industry  that  her  teachers  openly  gave  her  praise  for 
being  the  closest  student  of  all  the  two  hundred  pupils 
of  the  institution — while  her  schoolmates  as  unhesi 
tatingly,  yielded  her  the  palm  of  beauty.  "You  are 
gifted,"  said  the  directress  of  studies  when  issuing 
new  books  at  the  beginning  of  the  term ;  "but  remem 
ber  the  text: — 'Where  much  is  given,  much  will  be 
required.'  " 

It  was  in  the  month  of  October  of  the  following  year, 
that  the  catastrophe  took  place  which  seemed,  when 
looked  back  upon  in  after  years,  to  have  been  the  ad 
vance  herald  of  misfortuntes,  which  though  not  so 
grievous,  came  near  wrecking  the  happiness  and  pros 
perity  of  the  family. 

Felicia  had  been  in  N n  convent  a  little  over 

a  year.  Basil  had  not  been  sent  to  college  as  yet ;  some 
inefficient  teachers  in  the  academy  for  boys  at  Lake 
Providence,  had  been  removed  and  capable  men  put 
in  their  places;  and  it  was  thought  best  to  keep  the 
two  older  brothers  together  until  they  were  both  bet 
ter  prepared  to  enter  a  higher  school; — they  being 
already  in  the  same  classes  with  the  advantage  to 
Henry's  credit.  Thus  it  happened  that  four  of  the 
Bathurst  boys  rode  in  each  other's  company  to  town, 
as  was  the  habit  of  all  other  pupils  of  the  adjacent 
surrounding  country;  only  Kaspar  remaining  at  home 
on  the  scholastic  days  of  the  week.  It  was  a  Friday 
afternoon;  they  had  been  dismissed  early  and  had 
stopped  to  play. 

Francis  and  George — aged  respectively,  eleven  and 
nine  years — had  constructed  a  raft,  intending  to  cross 
the  lake  at  a  narrow  point  a  little  below  an  old  unused 
crossing,  near  the  upper  end  of  their  plantation.  They 
had  stopped  here  to  finish  their  work  which  had  been 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  63 

commenced  the  day  before.  Henry,  always  studious, 
was  sitting  near  by  with  a  book;  expecting  to  test  the 
boat  when  finished.  He  had  at  first  urged  them  to 
put  off  their  work  until  next  morning,  which  being  a 
Saturday,  he  and  perhaps  Basil,  would  help  them; — 
besides  it  was  hot  and  still — it  looked  like  a  rain-storm 
was  coming.  They  begged;  and  their  eagerness  over 
came  his  opposition.  Finding  and  pointing  out  the 
weak  places  he  cautioned  them,  saying: — "Be  sure 
you  don't  try  to  cross  in  that  crazy  thing  until  I've 
seen  it  again."  He  left  them  and  was  soon  absorbed 
in  study. 

Too  intent  to  call  him  as  he  had  warned  them  to  do, 
they  started  alone;  refusing  to  take  on  the  two  negro 
boys  who  had  helped  them,  until  they  had  found  it 
safe  by  a  first  trial  of  its  efficiency.  Heavy  clouds 
had  gathered,  and  now  the  wind  was  blowing,  causing 
a  considerable  ruffling  of  the  waves.  The  distance 
being  about  fifty  yards,  they  crossed  and  were  return 
ing  when  one  of  the  withes,  made  of  bear-grass,  gave 
way,  and  the  rotten  timber  separated — Francis  being 
on  one  side  and  his  brother  on  the  other.  The  screams 
of  the  negroes  brought  Henry;  who,  running  to  the 
bank  nearest  them,  instead  of  the  one  at  their  start 
ing  point,  which  was  much  lower,  jumped  in,  unfortu 
nately  striking  his  breast  against  a  huge  cypress  knee 
hidden  below  in  the  muddy  water.  The  breath  com 
pletely  knocked  out  of  him,  he  sank  to  the  bottom  to 
rise  no  more.  It  took  but  little  time  for  the  frightened 
and  horrified  children  to  be  dislodged  from  the  rolling, 
wave-tossed  wreck  to  which  they  clung,  and  they  too, 
went  to  the  bottom. 

For  a  minute  the  negro  boys  stood  at  the  edge  of 
the  water,  their  eyes  strained  on  the  floating  logs  as 
they  drifted  from  them  down  the  lake.  Then  plunging 
into  the  water  up  to  their  necks,  with  hands  raised 
aloft,  they  cried  aloud — calling  the  names  of  their 
young  masters — their  playmates,  who  had  always  been 
so  kind  to  them;  big  drops  of  water  began  to  fall  and 


64  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

the  waves  grew  stronger;  they  turned  back — peering 
through  the  rain  at  the  places  where  they  had  seen 
them  last,  black  clouds  overshadowed  the  setting  sun 
and  it  was  dark — they  saw  nothing!  The  increased 
splashing  of  the  water  terrified  them  and  they  ran 
shrieking  through  the  wood  to  a  new  pasture  which 
they  knew  their  father,  with  three  others,  was  fencing. 

"Stop  yo'  noise!"  said  a  giant  negro,  jumping  the 
fence  and  running  to  meet  them.  "What's  the  matter?" 

They  told  him.  The  others  had  followed  and  heard ; 
they  were  off  on  the  instant.  "Go  wid'  em,  John,  and 
show  'em  de  place  where  de  boys  sunk ;  dey  skeered  out 
o'  dey  senses.  Tell  Adam  and  Tom  to  dive  de  first 
thing.  Run!  Stop  yo'  cryin'  and  ketch  up  wid  'em!" 

He  turned  to  the  other  boy,  saying  hurriedly, 

"Clipper,  you  mus'  do  yo'  bes'.  Tell  Mahse  Darius, 
but  nobody  else.  Don't  let  anybody  hear  you  tell  him. 
You  know?" 

"Yas,  sir." 

"You's  de  boy!"  and  with  that,  running  in  long 
strides  he  was  soon  with  the  others.  It  was  an  hour 
before  Darius  came  and  another  before  they  gave  up. 
They  had  waded  in  the  shallower  waters  above  and 
below — traversing  and  feeling  their  way  over  every 
foot  of  ground  under  their  feet,  and  searching  with 
their  hands  in  and  around  the  cypress  knees  that  had 
grouped  themselves  in  colonies  under  the  water;  in 
the  deeper  water  they  had  dived  repeatedly — coming 
up  only  to  float  awhile  on  their  backs,  rest  and 
breathe — then  again  plunging  below.  The  white  man 
the  most  expert  diver  of  them  all. 

"It's  no  use  boys,  God  bless  you !  We'll  have  to  drag. 
Get  the  boats  but  don't  rouse  anybody."  Three  hours 
after  the  bodies  were  recovered. 

A  little  over  an  hour  after  the  fatal  accident,  Darius, 
who  had  his  team,  was  driving  in  a  fast  trot  to  escape 
the  approaching  rain-storm.  Paul  who  was  on  horse 
back  had  taken  shelter  at  a  neighbor's  house  close  by. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  65 

When  nearly  in  sight  of  home  the  horses  shied,  and 
Clipper  came  from  behind  some  bushes  on  the  road 
side,  holding  up  his  hand.  The  horses  were  brought 
to  a  sudden  stop. 

"Get  in  and  tell  me  why  you  stopped  me,"  he  said,  a 
little  impatiently. 

He  was  told. 

"Oh  God !  What  will  I  do !"  he  exclaimed.  For  many 
minutes  he  could  not  think  what  his  next  act  would 
be. 

"Does  any  one  at  the  house,  know?" 

"Naw,  sir,  daddie  told  me  not  to  let  'em  know." 

"Good  old  Yorke!  None  of  the  rest  would  have 
thought  of  it.  But  somebody  else  will  have  to  know  it." 
Driving  on,  he  managed  to  see  Basil,  and  giving  him  in 
structions,  went  directly  to  the  lake,  as  told  before. 

It  was  now  after  midnight  and  more  than  seven 
hours  since  it  happened.  The  rain  was  over  and  Paul 
had  come  in. 

"I'm  sorry  you  sat  up,  Andrea,  why  did  you  ?  Didn't 
Darius  tell  you  where  I  was?" 

"I  haven't  seen  him,  and  the  boys  have  not  come 
home.  Basil  doesn't  know  where  they  are;  but  I  be 
lieve  he  thinks  as  I  do — that  they  have  gone  home  with 
the  Hewitts  again.  If  so,  it  will  be  the  third  time  they 
have  disobeyed  me  in  that  particular  way.  The  last 
time,  Darius  gave  them  an  all  round  whipping,  and 
I'm  surprised  at  this,  for  it  was  pretty  severe." 

"Don't  think  any  more  about  it;  they  have  played 
about  until  it  rained,  and  have  run  into  somebody's 
house  and  been  persuaded  to  stay  all  night." 

Just  at  this  point  Basil  entered  abruptly,  by  a  side 
door,  and  standing  in  the  center  of  the  room — began, 
with  ashen  lips,  to  tell  them. 

"Father — mother — I  can  bear  it  no  longer!  Uncle 
Darius  is  coming  upstairs.  Oh — I  can  not  tell  you!" 
Darius  came  in  with  heavy  steps,  covered  with  mud — 
his  hat  off — and  drenched  to  the  skin.  Between  them, 


66  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

as  best  they  could,  they  managed  to  tell  the  stricken 
parents  of  their  almost  unparalelled  misfortune.  An 
drea  started  to  the  door ;  she  would  go  to  the  lake.  Her 
brother  said: — 

"They  are  here,  Andrea,  but  do  not  go  down  yet." 
It  was  not  until  prepared  for  the  grave  that  she  was 
allowed  to  again  look  upon  her  boys.  One  hour  alone 
with  them — her  children  and  her  husband — and  it  was 
over.  Sustained  by  the  loving  kindness  of  those  about 
them  they  bore  it  well. 

They  bore  it  well;  but  it  was  seen  from  the  first 
that  Andrea  drooped  and  her  strength  failed;  but 
that  was  to  be  expected.  It  was  such  a  great  and  sud 
den  shock: — it  would  take  time.  Added  to  this  was 
an  anxiety  about  its  effect  upon  Felicia.  There  had 
been  a  letter  inclosed  in  one  written  to  the  Mother 
Superior  of  the  convent  at  the  same  time.  The  letter 
was  answered;  and  was  satisfactory.  Felicia's  reply 
came  several  days  later;  it  was  such  a  letter  as  any 
schoolgirl  might  write  who  did  not  wish  to  increase 
her  parents'  grief  by  intruding  her  own.  It  was  as  if 
written  by  a  stereotyped  formula;  and  it  was  plain 
she  had  worked  hard  over  it.  With  this  letter  came 
another  from  the  Mother  Superior.  When  the  sad 
news  first  came,  she  wrote. — "Felicia  had  borne  it  with 
a  quiet  submission  not  at  all  usual ;  unlike  others,  there 
had  been  no  noise — no  complaints.  She  had  gone 
quietly  about  her  lessons.  But  she  was  afraid  it  was 
a  serious  matter;  so  serious  that  she  had  taken  the 
liberty  to  tell  the  child  that  some  of  the  family  would 
certainly  come — that  she  might  perhaps  go  home.  Yet 
still  there  had  been  no  outcry."  Paul  handed  the  letter 
to  Darius.  "Read  it — and  tell  me  what  to  do,"  he  said 
despairingly. 

"You  can  not  leave  Andrea,"  he  said  hastily  scanning 
its  contents.  "A  night-boat  will  be  here  in  fifteen 
minutes.  I  will  go."  In  five  minutes  he  was  bidding 
them  goodbye.  It  was  agreed  upon,  to  bring  her  back, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  67 

though  it  hardly  looked  fair  to  take  her  away  when 
doing  so  well  in  her  studies ;  perhaps  a  visit  would  do," 
was  her  mother's  suggestion. 

"It  might  be  a  serious  mistake  to  leave  her  there; 
and  if  all  goes  well  we  can  send  her  back." 

A  few  hours  later  Darius  was  traveling  northward, 
far  on  his  way.  It  would  be  a  week  before  he  could  by 
any  possibility  reach  home  again.  He  would  have  time 
for  reconsidering  certain  decisions  which,  made  after 
the  death  of  his  parents,  he  had  considered  final.  He 
had  never  ceased  to  be  his  father's  business  partner; 
the  partnership  extending  only  to  dealings  in  real 
estate  and  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  farming  in 
terests  of  either.  After  the  death  of  his  father  the 
business  had  been  conducted  by  an  agent;  growing 
larger  and  more  profitable  with  each  coming  year. 
But  until  the  late  calamity,  which  had  fallen  more 
heavily  upon  him  than  anyone  imagined,  he  had  never 
thought  of  going  back  there  to  live.  Away, — there 
was  much  he  could  forget  and  with  the  Bathursts  he 
had  led  a  cheerful — indeed  a  gay  life.  Returning  often 
to  visit  his  parents,  he  felt  he  had  not  neglected  them. 

Now  he  would  be  compelled  to  return.  Paul  had  of 
late  made  it  plain  that  living  any  longer  at  Lake  Provi 
dence  would  be  unbearable.  He  had  already  declared 
his  preference  for  Texas,  and  that  he  would  leave 
Louisiana  whether  he  sold  out  or  not.  A  kindred  feel 
ing  had  warned  him  from  the  first  moment  of  their 
mutual  loss,  that  such  was  his  own  case.  For  this 
reason  he  had  delayed  the  burial  of  the  children  until 
metallic  coffins  could  be  procured.  These  placed  in  a 
neighbor's  vault,  awaited  reinterment  in  the  old  family 
burial  ground  in  South  Carolina.  He  would  go  back; 
his  unmarried  sister  would  soon  be  alone.  A  cousin, 
also  a  single  lady  with  apparently  no  opportunity  of 
ever  being  otherwise,  had  married  and  in  a  short  time 
would  go  to  live  in  another  State.  Benumbed  by  this 
last  calamity,  he  could  live  any  where.  He  would  re 
store — he  would  rehabilitate  the  place.  He  felt  a  pang 


68  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

at  the  thought  of  how  much  his  father  would  have  been 
pleased  had  he  never  left;  but  recalling  the  last  fare 
well — the  very  last — he  was  comforted. 

"No,  Darius,  do  not  come  back  if  you  do  not  wish  it ; 
you  have  done  enough  to  humour  my  whims ;  sometimes 
I  fear  I  have  been  too  exacting,  and  that  you  have  done 
more  than  one  man  ought  to  require  of  another  even 
if  the  other  be  his  son." 

"When  the  United  States  declared  war  against  Mex 
ico,  Darius  gave  three  weeks  or  more  of  his  time  to 
mustering,  inspecting,  enrolling  and  drilling  troops 
for  the  service.  They  came  from  all  the  northern  par 
ishes  of  Louisiana  and  from  some  of  the  southern 
counties  of  Arkansas.  At  the  end  of  the  interval,  hav 
ing  declined  to  accept  the  captaincy  of  a  number  of 
companies  at  different  stages  of  his  progress,  he  was 
offered  the  command  of  a  select  regiment;  but  not 
withstanding  the  urgent  solicitations  of  his  relatives 
and  friends,  he  refused  this  also.  Giving  his  true 
reasons  to  his  relatives  only.  "His  father  was  still 
living — and  he  was  old." 

"You  would  be  the  right  man  in  the  right  place.  A 
colonel  at  your  age !  Think  of  such  a  beginning !  Your 
not  being  married  is  an  immense  advantage ;  for  it  will 
allow  you  to  give  your  whole  mind  to  your  duties.  It 
will  be  a  great  time  to  show  off  your  military  accom 
plishments — perhaps  the  only  chance  you'll  ever  have," 
said  Paul,  who  was  excessively  proud  of  him. 

"I  have  been  showing  off  my  military  accomplish 
ments;  I'm  doing  it  now;  and  am  going  to  continue 
it  after  I've  finished  the  present  display.  I  have  come 
to  think  that  every  male  teacher  in  Arkansas  and  this 
part  of  Louisiana,  ought  to  be  a  drill-master."  When 
the  boys  were  strong  enough  to  handle  light  fowling- 
pieces,  he  formed  a  squad  of  men  from  twelve  years 
old  up  to  conscript  age,  and  drilled  them,  until  growing 
to  the  proportions  of  a  company,  it  was  officered  and 
turned  over  to  Basil  as  captain ;  he  showing  an  aptitude 
for  this  kind  of  work,  not  seen  in  anything  else  he  had 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  69 

ever  undertaken.  Darius  went  over  it  all — the  pain 
and  the  pleasure  of  the  last  fifteen  years  or  more  of 
his  life.  There  was  food  for  reflection.  He  would 
begin  to  get  over  the  one  and  remember  the  other; 
after  all  they  were  not  his  own  children,  though  he  had 
grown  to  love  them  as  such.  He  would  take  Felix 
home,  and  in  a  short  time  they  would  part. 

Having  got  thus  far,  he  felt  that  the  sooner  it  was 
over  the  better — the  transfer  of  himself  and  his  be 
longings  to  another  stage;  a  familiar  one  it  might 
be — and  old — but  appearing  new  from  changes 
wrought  by  time. 

He  put  aside  all  melancholy  thoughts  and  slept; — 
ready  next  morning  to  mingle  with  the  crowd  aboard 
the  steamer;  many  of  whom  he  knew.  He  could  not 
begin  to  play  "old  man"  at  thirty-three. 

Felicia  had  shown  deep  emotion  in  the  first  moments 
of  meeting;  yet  with  marked  self-control.  But  after 
her  inquiries  about  the  living  were  answered,  she  in 
sisted  upon  learning  the  minute  details  of  the  catas 
trophe  which  deprived  her  of  her  dear  little  brothers. 

"I  have  thought  it  over  and  over,  Uncle  Darius — 
There  were  so  many  things  left  out  of  your  letters,  I 
never  until  now  knew  the  exact  place — it  was  where 
the  great  cypress  tree  stood.  Now  that  you  have  told 
me,  I  can  picture  it;  I  have  played  there  with  them 
often,  and  once  we  built  a  little  raft  out  of  rotten 
logs — but  were  afraid  to  try  to  float  it." 

With  a  heart  full  of  pity,  he  replied  to  all  her  ques 
tions.  At  last  she  ceased,  and  looking  out  upon  the 
snow-covered  lawn  and  to  the  wide  avenue  stretching 
out  beyond,  was  quiet  for  a  time.  Then  it  was  that 


70  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

he  first  became  aware  of  her  extreme  pallor  and  the 
emaciation  of  her  always  delicate  form.  He  mentally 
prayed  that  he  might  not  have  come  too  late.  Again 
turning  towards  him  she  arose,  and  bending  over  him 
with  her  hand  resting  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  she 
said,  with  the  air  of  one  thrice  her  age : — 

"Uncle  Darius,  I  think  that  father  and  mother, — 
and  you, — committed  a  serious  error  when  you  did 
not  send  for  me  when  that  first  happened; — for  it 
seems  to  me  yet,  that  it  is  the  very  worst  thing  that 
ever  was.  I  am  glad  you  have  come — but,  Uncle  Dar 
ius, — take  me  home!"  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands — the  childish  figure  racked  with  despairing 
sobs. 

"My  darling  child!  I  have  come  for  you.  Didn't 
Sister  Honoria  tell  you  ?  They  are  getting  you  ready — 
I  thought  you  knew."  But  seeing  that  this  was  a  con 
dition  which  called  for  stern  reproof,  he  said: — "This 
must  stop,  Felix.  You  are  not  using  your  powers  of 
self-control  to  regulate  the  impulses  of  your  heart — 
you  are  simply  keeping  your  grief  within  bounds.  Hid 
ing  it  certainly,  but  you  are  not  trying  to  check  it,  and 
to  become  submissive  to  the  will  of  God.  Your  broth 
ers  are  at  rest.  Their  troubles  are  over.  It  is  of  your 
mother  you  must  think  most.  The  suddenness  of  the 
shock  deprived  her  from  the  beginning  of  all  power  of 
resistance.  She  will  never  recover.  It  is  your  duty 
to  think  of  your  parents  and  forget  yourself.  Your 
mother  could  not  do  without  your  father's  care  for  a 
day.  You  must  make  up  your  mind,  never  to  leave 
her." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  71 

Quickly  drying  her  eyes,  she  looked  up  into  his  face 
like  one  who  had  been  suddenly  relieved  of  an  intoler 
able  burden  but  quietly  saying  that  she  would  soon  be 
ready,  she  ran  from  the  room. 

The  doors  of  the  convent  had  closed  behind  them. 
Felix  was  looking  back  through  her  tears  and  the  lit 
tle  pane  of  glass  in  the  back  curtain  of  the  coach. 

"Don't  look  back !  We  have  left  nothing  behind  that 
can  be  seen;  not  even  our  tracks  in  the  front  yard — 
for  it's  snowing  at  the  rate  of  an  inch  a  minute.  Look 
about  you  at  the  ice-clad  trees  and  shrubs ;  a  heavenly 
scene,  and  a  rare  one."  A  blast  of  icy  wind  shook  the 
poplar  trees  along  the  avenue,  and  through  a  shower  of 
gems,  Felicia  saw  the  convent  for  the  last  time. 

In  a  few  days  they  were  at  home;  but  it  would  be 
many  a  long  day  before  any  allusion  to  their  great  loss 
could  be  heard  with  composure;  yet  it  might  also  be 
said  that  hereafter  there  might  be  no  trial  which  they 
could  not  meet  with  greater  fortitude. 


72  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HYPOLITE. 

About  three  years  before  the  disaster  which  broke 
up  the  family  life  at  Lake  Providence,  Darius  was  go 
ing  down  the  Mississippi  on  one  of  his  countless  wand 
erings  to  the  sea-coast: — "to  get  a  breath  of  salt  air 
and  find  a  clean  place  to  dive  and  wallow  in  sea-water." 
But  this  time  it  was  to  New  Orleans  he  would  go  first. 
He  had  got  on  late  in  the  night — going  at  once  to  bed 
and  sleeping  late  in  the  morning.  Breakfast  was 
nearly  over  when  he  took  the  seat  reserved  for  him  at 
the  captain's  right.  The  captain,  himself,  about  to 
leave  the  table  again  settled  down  for  a  chat. 

"Same  old  place,  same  old  chair,  same  old  captain 
and  crew !"  he  declared.  "You  manage  to  hit  my  boat 
any  time  o'  night.  How  do  you  do  it — Col.  Darius  ?" 

"Stop  that!  Capt.  Constant,  if  you  please, — but  Mr. 
Darius.  I  know  the  whistle  of  the  'Starling'  when  she 
calls  a  first-class  passenger,  and  I  run.  But  all  is  not 
the  same  as  it  was ;  I  see  something  new  in  the  waiter 
line,"  his  eye  following  the  rapid  graceful  movements 
of  a  superb  black,  who  had  haughtily  shouldered  the 
others  out  of  the  way  and  was  serving  the  belated 
breakfast — deftly  removing  from  his  tray  the  dainty 
service,  he  said: — 

"Your  egg,  M'sieu.  Your  stek — in  free  quarters  of 
a  minute — hot!"  Bowing  and  vanishing,  he  left  in  his 
wake  an  odor  of  cedar  or  pine, — or  both. 

"Yes, — "  said  the  captain,  smiling:  "He  rules  the 
roost  back  there — and  below;  which  is  all  very  well 
if  he  goes  no  further — this  however  he  doesn't  seem 
to  want  to  do.  He  does  not  want  to  be  captain  of  the 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  73 

boat  as  yet;  I'm  glad  of  that,  for  I  like  him  and  his 
smell,  but  I'm  afraid  all  of  us  are  scared  of  his  eye. 
But  I  see  he's  laid  the  best  one,  which  happens  to  be 
his  right,  on  you,  and  that  means  a  good  breakfast ;  so 
I  will  leave  you  in  his  hands.  I  feel  that  we  have  stop 
ped,  and  I  have  to  go  ashore  here  for  a  little  bit." 

The  man  stood  decorously  a  little  in  the  rear,  and 
without  seeming  to  notice,  Darius  began  to  study  him 
as  a  singular  specimen  of  humanity;  for  this  he  had 
ample  opportunity,  for  Hypolite  had  singled  him  out 
above  all  others  for  the  object  of  his  special  atten 
tion — regarding  the  efforts  of  his  co-workers  as  in 
solent  presumption. 

"An  African?"  thought  Darius,  conjecturing  what 
might  be  his  tribe.  "His  skin?  Without  doubt;  but 
there  was  a  little  of  the  Arab,  or  he  might  be  a  mixture 
of  the  Moor  with  other  dark  races  for  ancestors — one 
of  them  a  Roman  who  had  left  him  his  nose: — not  so 
high,  perhaps,  and  broader  at  the  base;  but  Roman  in 
the  outline  of  the  bridge,  all  the  same.  He  laughed. 
"Who  knows  what  Spirit  of  some  ancient  ruler  might 
be  imprisoned  here!"  From  time  to  time  his  mind 
reverted  to  the  mysterious  atmosphere  which  sur 
rounded  the  man,  appearing  in  some  way  to  affect  all 
who  came  within  range  of  it. 

"It's  that  perfume  he  uses,"  said  a  young  planter. 
"He  smells  like  a  box  of  fans  my  mother  bought  at 
Constantinople  when  she  was  traveling  in  Europe  last 
year.  Pshaw!"  he  said  to  his  wife.  "The  idea  of 
bein'  afraid  of  him,  he's  the  smartest  waiter  aboard, 
and  the  others  are  jealous  of  him  and  tell  yarns  to  get 
even." 

The  boat  had  stopped.  It  would  be  the  last  wood-up 
before  reaching  New  Orleans.  Darius  was  sitting  on 
the  guards  listening  to  the  songs  of  the  roustabouts  as 
they  worked  by  torch-light. 


74  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"M'sieu,"  said  a  soft  voice  at  his  elbow.  "M'sieu, 
I  haf  a  favour  to  ask."  He  was  standing  quite  near; 
the  lantern  on  a  level  with  his  face,  showed  every 
feature. 

"Ah,  well,  Hypolite ;  I  was  thinking  of  you." 

"Oui,  M'sieu — I  know — "  halting  a  little;  the  heavy 
well-formed  eye-lid  slowly  closing  over  his  left  eye — 
narrowing  it  to  a  line,  "I  know,  M'sieu,  he  repeated, 
"and  I  want  to  serve  you  always;  I  want  you  to  buy 
me." 

"To  buy  you !  That  would  take  a  deal  of  money,  I'll 
warrant.  I  fancy  your  master  would  get  big  interest 
on  the  money  paid  for  you." 

"I  will  see  that  it  will  not  be  too  much.  I  will  get 
my  gran'mother  to  influence  the  price." 

The  price  being  influenced,  the  trade  was  brought 
to  a  satisfactory  end.  Darius  did  not  remember  the 
time  when  he  had  been  without  a  man  or  boy  of  some 
sort,  but  latterly  he  had  been  putting  up  with  a  make 
shift.  The  "boy"  having  become  a  man  of  family,  made 
no  secret  of  his  preference  for  a  life  of  peace  and  quiet 
in  the  quarters.  He  did  not  like  the  roving  life  of  a 
young  man.  He  would  be  glad  to  know  that  he  had 
been  superseded.  As  for  the  "Evil  Eye,"  it  caused  no 
fear  in  the  mind  of  the  present  owner  and  master,  for 
apart  from  its  being  a  nervous  affection,  it  could  have 
no  further  significance.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was 
no  flaw  in  the  service  rendered — in  that,  there  could 
be  no  "rift  in  the  lute,"  but  while  his  fellow-servants 
liked  him  and  admired  him  as  of  a  superior  kind,  they 
had  a  superstitious  fear  of  him,  for  they  could  by  no 
means  attribute  the  defect  to  natural  causes — one  of 
the  glances  being  sufficient  to  upset  all  common  sense 
views  of  it — the  older  ones  more  than  the  younger, 
thinking  that  he  might  do  anything  with  it.  They 
would  breathe  more  freely  when  he  would  be  gone. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  75 

A  day  or  two  after  his  return  from  Kentucky,  Dar 
ius,  was  packing  his  desk  for  shipment — looking  over 
letters,  papers,  etc. 

Hypolite  was  sitting  Turk-fashion  on  the  floor  in 
the  light  of  a  low  window,  polishing  a  hunting-horn. 
Except  for  an  occasional  glance  at  his  master  he 
seemed  absorbed  in  his  work.  Just  as  Darius  was 
about  to  lock  the  desk,  he  came  forward,  and  said  in 
his  usual  deferential  way: — 

"The  papers  remind  me,  Mahse  Darius, — you  not 
open  the  little  package  I  give  to  you  the  day  you 
left  for  Kentucky.  It  is  still  in  the  pocket  of  your 
overcoat." 

"There  was  something — I  remember.  Get  it  Hypo- 
lite." 

He  brought  it. 

"It  was  in  the  big  account  book — it  was  easy  to  over 
look.  The  young  lady — she  inquire.  She  inquire 
yesterday  w'en  I  pass." 

"The  devil !"  said  Darius,  splitting  the  envelope  with 
his  paper-knife.  "Did  she  send  this  by  you?" 

"Yes,  sir;  when  I  went  for  your  mail  she  was  at 
the  postoffice." 

A  little  slip  of  paper  and  a  medium-tinted  sketch — 
small,  but  exquisitely  done — his  own  work.  He  un 
folded  the  note,  the  color  spreading  over  his  face  as 
he  read : — 

"Mueller  is  back  and  working  at  the  same  old  place ; 
if  you  want  this  done  on  ivory,  come  and  see  me  this 
evening  and  we  will  talk  it  over."  He  read  it  again, 
and  again ;  half  angry,  half  amused.  It  was  a  face  of 
startling  beauty.  It  was  while  under  the  influence  of 
a  first  meeting  he  was  drawn  to  the  side  of  the  owner 
of  the  charming  face — on  the  same  evening  making 
this  sketch;  which  after  touching  daintly  with  color, 


76  AIvONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

sometime  afterwards,  he  presented  to  her.  He  was 
making,  he  told  himself,  his  last  visit  to  a  house  in 
which  he  would  hate  to  be  found — dead  or  alive.  He 
had  begun  to  fear  that  the  absence  of  the  family  in  one 
or  two  visits  prior  to  this  might  mean  a  misunderstand 
ing  that  would  lead  to  future  difficulty.  At  the  end 
of  the  evening  he  saw  that  the  trouble  was  not  in  the 
future.  It  had  come.  It  was  the  evening  before  the 
terrible  accident. 

"You  told  me  you  wanted  the  little  picture,  Miss 
Merger,  and  I  have  brought  it,"  he  said,  rising  and 
taking  it  from  his  pocket.  "I  came  near  forgetting  I 
had  promised  to  let  you  have  it.  Come  to  the  light  and 
see  how  much  it  was  improved  by  retouching."  They 
stood  under  the  lamp  on  the  mantle-piece. 

"Oh,  Darius,  Darius!  What  a  beautiful  locket  and 
chain!"  she  exclaimed  impulsively  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissing  him  repeatedly,  she  lay 
with  her  head  resting  against  his  shoulder  as  if  be 
sides  herself  with  the  passionate  emotions  which  pos 
sessed  her.  It  took  some  time  for  the  astonished  and 
conscience-stricken  man  to  define  his  own  unexpected 
sensations;  but  between  mind  and  matter  when  there 
is  a  preponderance  of  the  former,  the  conflict  is  always 
of  short  duration.  He  took  the  pretty  hands  from  his 
shoulders,  holding  them  in  both  his : — 

"I'm  so  glad  you  like  it,  Miss  Merger.  I  think  my 
self,  it  is  beautiful — it  couldn't  be  otherwise — and  de 
serving  of  a  master's  hand  and  brush.  And — and  ivory 
or  canvass — "  growing  confused  and  angry  as  he  saw 
tears  rising  in  the  lovely  eyes.  "Or  perhaps  brass — 
or  marble."  Roughly  throwing  her  hands  from  him, 
he  began  to  think.  A  woman  whose  mother  had  per 
haps  done  everything  under  the  sun — and  who,  her 
self,  twenty-four  years  old,  was  trying  under  a  mask 
of  respectability,  to  entrap  him — he  was  never  so  un 
comfortable  in  his  life: — he  would  get  out  and  curse 
himself  for  a  fool ! 

"How  long  have  I  had  this,  Hypolite?" 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE;  ROUTE  77 

"Fifteen  days,  Mahse  Darius."    Darius  looked  again 
at  the  picture.     How  really,  and  surpassingly  beauti 
ful  it  seemed,  now  that  he  had  not  seen  it  for  so  long. 
She  had  shown  no  resentment  for  what  he  had  done; 
indeed  she  had  neither  more  knowledge  nor  discretion 
than  a  girl  of  ten  ought  to  have ;  he  would  take  the  pic 
ture  and  leave  it  at  Mueller's  as  it  must  have  been  ex 
pected  that  he  would — being  that  she  had  removed  it 
from  the  locket.    He  would  not  like  to  go  there.    She 
must  have  understood  his  rebuff.     What  must  have 
been  her  experience — her  training — that  she  could — , 
that  she  was  able  to  bear  such  treatment  without  re 
sentment!     He  would  make  some  little  atonement. 
"Hypolite,  have  my  team  ready  at  four  o'clock." 
"Must  I  put  the  account-book  away,  Master?" 
"The  account-book,  but  not  this  parcel."     Hypolite 
went  back  to  his  seat  by  the  window  and  again  began 
his  work.    After  five  or  ten  minutes  he  looked  up. 
"Master,—" 
"Yes,  Hypolite." 

"Zenie  is  Mrs.  Merger's  cook.     Do  I  interrupt  you, 
master?" 
"No,  go  on." 

"I  go  see  Mrs.  Merger's  cook." 
"What!    Isn't  she  old?    Isn't  she  gray?" 
"Yes,  sir, — she  is  old — but  she  told  me — she  is  only 
hired  to  them.    She  belongs  to  the  Hardy  plantation. 
If  she  had  not  belong  to  the  Hardys — she  would  not 
tell  me  about  the  ladies  she  now  work  for." 

"Stop  Hypolite,  don't  repeat  it.  You  and  I  do  not 
care  for  that;  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Oh,  are  your  quite  sure,  Mahse  Darius?" 
"It  would  not  amount  to  anything — she  may  be  angry 
with  them." 

Darius  tried  to  take  up  his  lost  train  of  thought,  but 
the  man  had  been  so  seriously  in  earnest,  so  crest 
fallen  at  what  could  hardly  be  called  a  reproof,  that 
he  fell  to  wondering  as  to  the  nature  of  what  he  wanted 
to  tell.  Was  he  sure  he  did  not  care  for  it?  There  was 


78  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

a  warning  in  the  question.  But  he  would  not  encour 
age  such  gossip  in  servants.  He  felt  tired.  Leaning 
back  in  his  chair  he  closed  his  eyes.  Hypolite  got  up 
and  put  a  cushion  under  his  head — pushing  down  the 
back  of  his  chair  and  raising  the  footrest,  he  covered 
him  with  a  rug  and  again  resumed  his  work. 

Darius  was  not  asleep.  He  would  go  over  in  rota 
tion  what  he  had  to  do.  Hypolite  would  have  the  team 
at  four;  he  never  failed.  He  raised  his  head.  The 
room  was  empty.  He  saw  the  wide  yellow-white  lane 
through  the  low,  broad  window  and  beyond — ?  What 
was  that?  The  Mississippi  was  a  mile  wide  out  there 
and  it  was  like  a  Japanese  picture  just  now — for  the 
other  bank  had  risen  up.  It  strained  him  to  look : — he 
lay  back  on  his  cushion.  Now  indeed  he  would  rest! 
A  light  touch  on  the  hand  caused  him  once  more  to 
open  his  eyes.  Hypolite  was  in  the  room — standing 
in  a  flood  of  light  at  his  feet.  He  wore  caftan  and 
cap  of  red  and  gold.  He  was  making  signs — his  left 
eye  closing  to  a  line  of  dull  white,  he  said: — pointing 
to  the  miniature  on  the  table. 

"Don't  go,  Master!  It  would  bring  death  to  your 
happiness  on  earth,  and  destruction  to  all  your  hopes 
of  Heaven!"  He  half  raised  himself;  falling  back 
again — he  called — ,  a  familiar  voice  answered: — 

"This  way,  Darius,  let  us  take  another  direction — 
let  us  search  here."  It  was  Bob  Ridley's  voice ;  but 
when  he  turned  to  reply,  his  friend  was  gone,  and  he 
was  alone  on  (Folly  Island — staring  through  cloud- 
shrouded  moonlight  at  the  figures  of  a  man  and  a 
woman  struggling  in  a  boat — far  out  at  sea.  The  man 
had  struck  at  the  woman  with  an  oar;  and  she  had 
warded  off  the  blow — reeling  back  with  uplifted  hands. 
As  she  swayed  to  and  fro  with  the  rocking  of  the  boat, 
he  struck  her  again  with  a  furious  blow  and  she  fell 
into  the  water — the  boat  overturning  with  the  weight 
and  action  of  the  man — they  were  both  lost.  The  moon 
turned  red — red  as  blood! 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE   ROUTE  79 

"My  God !"  said  Darius,  springing  to  his  feet.  It  was 
many  minutes  before  he  knew  that  the  last  vision  was 
a  dream — and  longer  before  he  remembered  the  first. 
He  saw  from  the  window  that  his  horses  were  at  the 
gate,  but  when  Hypolite  announced  that  all  was  in  read 
iness  for  the  evening  drive,  he  told  him  to  put  them 
up — he  would  not  go.  The  thing  might  be  of  no  sig 
nificance,  but  he  would  take  it  as  a  warning  and  draw 
a  tighter  rein  over  his  passions.  He  felt  that  he  had 
not  changed;  he  could  still  dream  of  blood  and  cruel 
pointed  daggers;  and  it  had  been  fifteen  years  since 
his  father  told  him  that  a  man  who  could  not  control 
himself  was  unfit,  whether  as  soldier  or  citizen,  to 
govern  others.  His  hands  still  trembled  from  the  rage 
that  had  possessed  him.  What ! — what  could  it  mean ! 
His  reason  told  him  that  it  had  grown  out  of  a  jumble 
of  vagaries — erratic  ideas,  or  vaporous  fancies,  not 
to  be  encouraged  just  yet;  but  later,  with  more  time, 
he  would  look  into  it.  It  had  been  so  real — the  desper 
ate  struggle  and  the  capsizing  of  the  boat — he  had 
even  known  the  features — ah — !  But  he  would  think 
of  it  no  more.  He  would  soon  be  on  the  ground — at 
home ;  for  in  a  day  or  two  his  people  provided  with 
passes  would  be  traveling  over  the  old  route  to  settle 
once  more  among  their  kindred.  He  would  part  with 
the  family  at  Shreveport  and  make  the  journey  by 
water.  The  two  plantations  were  alive  with  the  bustle 
of  preparation.  Basil  was  at  the  village,  drilling  his 
young  company  for  the  last  time. 

It  had  to  be.  It  could  not  be  avoided,  and  it  had 
come. 

"Do  not  grieve  for  a  moment,  Andrea ;  I  make  long 
visits  and  may  surprise  you  at  any  time.  Stick  to  your 
guns,  Basil.  Goodbye,  Daisy,  be  sure  you  buy  a  mus 
tang  with  the  money  I  gave  you.  Felix,  you  will  be  a 
lady  when  we  meet  again — and  I  believe  a  pretty" — he 
hesitated — the  swollen  eyes  and  nose  made  prominent 
by  weeping  giving  small  promise  of  future  beauty,  he 
said: — "At  least — I  hope  a  pretty  one,  and  not  one 


80  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

who  is  always  bursting  into  tears."  She  turned  ab 
ruptly  away  from  him.  When  she  looked  around,  he 
was  walking  lightly  and  rapidly  down  to  the  steamer. 
She  ran  after  him,  calling: — he  stopped. 

"I  am  not  crying  now,  Uncle  Darius ;  goodbye !"  she 
was  surprised  to  see  how  pale  he  was.  "I  couldn't  let 
you  go  like  that,  Uncle  Darius." 

"I'm  glad  you  followed  me.  Keep  on  with  your  les 
sons,  and  be  good  to  your  mother  and — your  father. 
Take  care  of  all  of  them.  You  are  like  me,  Felix, — 
you  have  my  temper ;  but  don't  be  a  vixen." 

She  stood  gazing  after  him,  until  joined  by  Hypo- 
lite  on  the  gang-plank,  he  disappeared  in  the  crowd  of 
passengers  boarding  the  steamboat. 

The  others  had  moved  on.  She  walked  slowly  back 
to  the  carriage  in  which  her  father  and  mother  sat 
waiting,  impressed  with  a  feeling  of  responsibility. 
This  was  like  making  a  will — he  had  stepped  out  and 
she,  young  as  she  was,  must  take  his  place.  She  would 
try  to  do  it.  Like  her  Uncle  Darius?  She  would  try 
to  be  more  like  him.  She  would  never  "burst  into 
tears,"  if  she  could  help  it,  and  she  would  be  cheerful. 
She  was  half-way  to  the  carriage;  running  over  the 
remaining  distance,  she  took  her  seat  beside  her 
mother. 

"I  caught  up  with  him,  mother,  and  watched  him 
until  he  was  out  of  sight.  I  have  kept  you  waiting,  but 
now  we  will  go  to  Texas." 

Traveling  slowly  for  fifteen  days,  they  reached  the 
"Old  San  Antonio  and  Nacogdoches  Road,"  at  Tenox- 
itlan,  afterwards  known  as  Old  Nashville.  Crossing 
the  San  Andreus  river,  now  known  as  Little  river,  they 
were  once  again  on  "The  King's  Highway,"  going  west, 
while  Darius  already  at  Charleston,  was  awaiting  his 
dusky  household,  who,  on  this,  the  oldest  traveled 
public  thoroughfare  in  America,  were  hurrying  east 
ward. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  81 


CHAPTER   VII. 

WHEN  THE  PLANTERS  CAME. 

It  was  now  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century- 
fifties.  The  planters  had  been  coming  for  several 
years — four  or  five  of  them,  and  Paul  felt  belated; 
cheated  out  of  much  that  was  new,  in,  or  belonging  to 
a  pioneer  life  especially  since  striking  the  German  and 
other  settlements  west  of  the  Brazos — the  little  hamlets 
resembling  the  peasant  villages  of  the  old  world.  Camp 
ing  at  one  of  these  on  their  last  night,  Paul  learned 
of  a  vacant  ranch  of  which  he  could  take  immediate 
possession,  and  leaving  at  five  o'clock,  they  were  now 
nearing  the  end  of  a  fair,  cool  day.  They  had  been 
traveling  in  a  southeasterly  direction,  keeping  to  the 
high-way ;  coming  upon  a  bend  in  the  river  they  turned 
into  an  unfrequented  road  which  for  awhile  led  them 
southward  to  westward  along  the  river;  they  were  on 
the  east  bank  of  the  Guadalupe.  They  had  been  pass 
ing  little  German  farms  all  day  in  serpentine  fash 
ion,  both  in  the  hills  and  close  to  the  stream;  some 
times  close  enough  to  hear  the  music  of  its  waters — 
dashing  over  little  waterfalls — sometimes  leaving  it 
a  mile  or  more,  where  on  rising  ground,  skirted  by 
fragrant  cedar,  they  could  look  over  and  beyond  it  to 
the  boundless  western  prairies — a  vast  and  apparently 
a  wilderness  of  unpeopled  territory; — the  immensity 
of  the  picture,  bringing  to  their  hearts  as  they  gazed 
enraptured  upon  it,  a  feeling  not  unmixed  with 
gloom: — a  realization  of  the  fact  that  they  were  pio 
neers  and  amongst  those  who  had  begun  a  task,  the 
limit  of  which  might  not  be  reached  in  a  lifetime.  So 
the  day  had  sped — the  sun  was  down: — and  twilight 


82  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

odors  of  cedar  and  wild-flowers  were  about  them,  and 
a  light  was  shining  through  the  leaves  of  the  liveoak 
trees  around  Little  Kosta.  They  were  at  home. 

Basil  and  a  couple  of  young  negroes  on  horseback 
had  preceeded  them,  fires  had  been  made,  and  a  great 
deal  of  sweeping  and  dusting  accomplished. 

"Welcome,  mother,  and  all  the  rest  of  you,"  said 
Basil,  coming  out  on  the  veranda  with  a  candle,  which 
was  blown  out  by  the  wind  in  an  instant. 

There  was  an  unusual  bustle  attending  this  last 
hour  of  a  journey  at  an  end: — the  fatigue  of  the  day, 
being  forgotten  in  the  happy  feeling  of  once  more 
being  at  home.  Those  not  engaged  in  the  work  of  un 
harnessing,  unpacking  and  feeding,  made  a  rush  for 
the  house.  Lanterns  and  candles  were  lit — called  into 
requisition  by  the  exploring  party — each  carrying  one. 
The  kitchen  being  found,  and  a  fire  already  blazing  in 
the  wide  fire-place — the  cook  was  gathering  together 
pots,  pans  and  eatables  and  soon  had  everything  in  full 
blast  in  that  department. 

There  was  no  need  of  haste,  and  it  was  long  after 
midnight  before  the  tired  travelers  sought  rest. 

The  first  building  at  "Little  Kosta"  (or  Kostalito) 
was  noteworthy  as  a  pioneer  edifice,  and  was  the  work 
of  a  German  emigrant.  It  consisted  at  the  time  of 
erection  and  during  its  occupation  by  its  first  own 
er,  of  a  room  twenty-six  feet  long  and  eighteen  feet 
wide.  The  upper  story  was  very  low  as  to  walls — 
being  no  higher  than  six  feet — but  the  sharp  steep 
roof  made  the  pointed  ceiling  very  high  in  the  center. 

Neither  of  these  large  rooms  was  subdivided  until 
owned  and  occupied  by  the  Vidals,  who  besides  adding 
many  other  rooms,  and  the  verandas,  converted  them 
into  four  apartments  by  means  of  partitions.  To  the 
Vidals  was  also  due  the  miles  of  fencing,  inclosing  two- 
thirds  of  a  league  of  pasture  land,  besides  making 
other  improvements  necessary  to  life  on  a  ranch. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  83 

In  the  original  habitation,  the  walls  were  made  of 
logs  in  the  usual  fashion  of  loghouses;  their  smooth 
flat  sides  making  a  neat  wall  remarkable  for  the  per 
fect  manner  in  which  the  ends  met  and  were  joined 
together  in  order  to  make  the  short  timber  available 
for  so  large  a  room.  The  odd-looking  fireplaces  above 
and  below,  suggested  the  work  of  the  dirt-dauber, 
a  wasp-like  insect  which,  though  a  nuisance  to  the 
Texas  housekeeper,  persists  in  putting  up  its  neat 
vault-like  little  buildings,  sometimes  of  several  com 
partments,  on  the  walls  of  the  larger  human  resi 
dences.  The  other  rooms,  of  which  there  were  ten  in 
number,  were  built  in  the  rustic  but  picturesque  style 
common  to  the  Spanish- American  settlers  in  the  South 
west  at  that  period.  The  addition  was  a  counterpart 
of  the  first,  except  that  the  flat  smoothly  hewn  logs 
were  riven  in  two  and  set  up  and  down  on  a  frame 
similar  to  that  once  called  the  California  frame-house. 
These  two  gave  a  front  of  sixty-five  feet.  Along  the 
whole  front  was  a  partly  latticed  verandah  twelve  feet 
wide — an  entry  or  passage  of  the  same  length  leading 
to  the  patio  at  the  back;  on  each  side  of  which  were 
six  large  rooms,  three  on  each  side,  connected  with  the 
main  building.  In  the  center  of  this  rude  court-yard 
was  a  fine  well  of  water,  around  which  grew  some 
choice  plants.  The  stables  and  corrals  were  new  and 
of  a  size  suitable  for  large  herds  of  cattle  or  horses. 
The  cabins  or  jacals  formely  used  by  the  farm  labor 
ers  or  rancheros  of  the  previous  occupant  were  suffi 
cient  for  the  comfort  of  the  negroes.  Almost  entirely 
covering  the  hill  with  their  shades  were  groups  of 
liveoaks,  both  in  front  and  rear  of  the  house.  These 
in  their  evergreen  beauty  would  have  adorned  the 
grounds  of  a  palace,  and  with  the  native,  soft,  luxuri 
ant  mesquite  grass  on  the  lawn,  made  a  scene  which 
needed  no  further  embellishment  or  aid.  A  fair  ex 
ample  of  the  house  of  the  well-to-do  Mexican  or  Amer 
ican  ranchman  of  the  time  ;some  of  them  being  a  little 


84  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

the  worse  for  want  of  the  second  story  and  wooden 
flooring,  others  a  little  more  pretentious  by  being  built 
of  stone. 

This  was  all  very  well.  But  bedsteads,  chairs  and 
tables  were  still  in  the  future.  And  so  were  the  horses. 
For  these,  in  a  country  so  well  supplied,  they  did  not 
have  to  wait  long.  Kaspar  had  already  seen  them. 
They  were  blooded  bays,  brothers, — and  just  alike. 

"They  are  the  prettiest  horses  I  ever  saw,  father. 
They're  bigger  than  mustangs;  they  are  half  Spanish, 
and  the  other  half  is  the  finest  kind  of  American 
stock." 

"Why  did  you  not  bring  them  with  you?"  asked 
Paul.  "Did  you  tell  the  owner  you  wanted  to  buy?" 

"Uncle  Darius  gave  us  money  enough  to  buy  mus 
tangs — these  will  cost  more.  The  man  is  German ;  and 
John  Turner,  you  know  the  fat  Turner  boy,  father — 
the  one  that  brought  us  the  turkey  eggs?" 

"No,  but  I'll  get  acquainted  with  him.    Go  on." 

"John  says  that  Mr.  Reutler  is  crazy  on  religion; 
but  he  don't  talk  a  bit  like  a  crazy  person;  he  said 
he'd  fetch  the  horses  here  and  let  you  see  them." 

"There's  wisdom  in  that  at  least.  If  they're  as  good 
as  you  say,  we  may  trade.  Did  you  ask  his  price?" 

"No,  but  their  names  are  Echo  and  Max.  He  said 
Max  was  a  lady-horse." 

"Dat's  de  one  Miss  Felicia  ought  to  have.  But  he 
ain't  no  mare,"  said  Uncle  Polydore. 

"I  didn't  say  he  was,  father;  do  you  think  you  will 
buy  them?" 

"I  have  never  traded  with  a  man  like  that,  but  I 
think  I  may." 

They  were  not  to  wait.    The  horses  had  come. 

"I  hardly  looked  for  you  so  early,  Mr.  Reutler?" 
The  man  who  had  dismounted  and  tied  his  horse  to 
a  tree,  did  not  reply;  but  with  the  quick  roving  eye  of 
the  mentally  disturbed,  shot  lightning  glances  from 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  85 

one  to  other  of  the  crowd  gathered  in  the  patio,  and 
without  a  word,  led  out  the  well  groomed  horses  by 
their  handsome  halters,  and  placed  them  in  line — 
wrapping  the  reins  about  their  proudly  arching  necks. 

"They  stahndt  so,  until  you  tells  dem  to  quit!"  he 
said  with  pride. 

Paul's  experienced  eye  told  him  that  here  was  no 
cheap  horseflesh,  and  prepared  himself  to  be  bled. 

"And  your  price?" 

"Tree  hoonder  dollar." 

"Six  hundred  dollars!     That  knocks  me  down!" 

"No,  no, — not  so  bahdt.  One  hoonder  and  fifty  dol 
lar  each  other." 

"Oh,  that — I  have  no  tree  upon  which  money  grows, 
but  I  can  stand  that." 

The  German,  not  understanding,  went  on  to  show 
their  best  points. 

"You    leave    'em — ja?     You  not    take    'em — hein? 
Look  at  dem.    See  deir  shoulders,  and  deir  legs !    Dey 
runs;  dey  are  gentle.     Dis  one — Maximilian — is  goot 
for  vimmens — he  suits  de  gal." 
Felix  got  behind  her  mother. 
"You  takes  'em  both,  or  you  leaves  'em  both." 
"I  like  the  horses  and  will  take  them  both." 
After  this  there  was  much    riding.     The    children 
rode  daily — far  and  near.     In  their  short  rides  about 
the  neighborhood,  visiting  neighbors,  Andrea  would 
sometimes  go  with  them ;  riding  her  gentle  easy-going 
pony:  usually  spending   the     afternoon,    or    later, — 
going  home  by    moonlight.      Again  they  would  help 
Pancho,  the  goat  herder,  bring  in  the  caballada,   and 
assist  in  the  much  more  difficult  task  of  rounding  up 
and  driving  herds  of  cattle  into  the  corrals. 

Once  in  a  while,  evercome  by  a  half  or  wholly  wild 
spirit  of  the  plains,  they  would  scour  the  country — 
scaring  up  mule-rabbits,  droves  of  partridges  and 


86  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

long-legged  paysanos.  At  sundown  one  evening  when 
out  with  a  Mexican  vaquero,  hunting  for  the  milk 
cows,  they  struck  an  old  trail  which  led  to  an  out  of 
the  way  crossing.  The  Mexican  who  was  a  little  ahead 
came  back,  beckoning  and  making  signs  for  them  to 
be  quiet;  he  got  down  nimbly  from  his  horse  and  tied 
him,  motioning  for  them  to  do  the  same.  Slipping 
stealthily  along,  they  heard  a  swishing,  whirring  noise 
like  wind  blowing  among  dry  autumn  leaves.  The 
Mexican  squatted  down,  low  on  the  ground — Felix 
and  Daisy  imitating.  In  a  minute  or  two  they  saw 
wild  turkeys  crossing  the  trail  a  little  in  front  of  them. 
How  many  ?  It  was  impossible  to  count ! 

Waves  of  them — with  ducking,  bowing  heads,  in 
troops  and  flocks  of  all  sizes — each  company  escorted 
by  two  or  more  magnificent  gobblers — not  noisy,  but 
directing  them  with  a  subdued  cluck  like  the  cocking 
of  a  pistol — they  marched — indistinctly  seen  in  the 
growing  dusk  of  the  coming  darkness. 

"What  are  they  doing?  Oh,  Mateo,  what  are  they 
doing — what  does  it  mean?"  whispered  the  children. 

"Guajolotes — enn  anglaise — turkess — " 

"I  know  they  are  turkeys,  but  what  are  they  doing, 
and  where  are  they  going?  Oh,  if  I  only  had  my  gun !" 

"Ellos  se  van  rio  arriba,  to  sleep  in  the  nut  trees. 
They  come  back  manana.  Kill?  No,  no,  no, — no  kill 
child  turkess: — it  make  mala  Venturas,"  whispered 
Matteo,  whose  English  was  improving  every  day. 

He  told  them  in  the  patios  peculiar  to  Mexicans  liv 
ing  in  Southwest  Texas,  that  the  women  turkeys  had 
already  crossed  and  selected  a  roost  and  would  spend 
the  next  day  out  among  the  acorns  in  the  post-oak 
regions;  this  being  customary,  the  men-turkeys  would 
bring  up  the  pollada,  or  flock  of  young  ones  of  every 
age  and  size. 

"It  is  a  sight  which  is  growing  rarer  with  every 
coming  year,"  said  an  old  timer  to  Paul,  "and  as  to 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  87 

the  mocking  bird  and  Texas  nightingale,  alas! 
alas!  They  are  being  put  in  cages  and  sold  by  hun 
dreds,"  he  went  on  sadly.  "And  how  is  it  going  to 
be  with  other  things?  The  flowers,  for  instance, — 
millions — billions  of  them — of  every  class  and  hue! 
The  cattle  were  tramping  them  down  and  out, — many 
of  the  choicest  disappearing  entirely.  Great  droves  of 
wild  deer  were  seldom  seen  and  cattle,  sheep  and  goats 
were  taking  the  place  of  the  buffalo.  The  mustang 
was  being  crowded  out  by  Kentucky  halfbreeds.  Was 
it  really  for  its  betterment — this  old,  old  people  in  a 
new  country?" 

An  old,  old  people  in  a  new  country!  What  will 
they  do  with  it?  What  they  have  done  with  every  part 
of  the  American  continent — bring  it  up  to  a  level  with 
the  old  country  in  many  things  and  surpass  it  in  as 
many  more ;  and  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time. 
German,  Irish,  English  or  American — they  had  come ! 
And  with  them  had  come — change !  Already,  in  1854, 
there  were  workmen  skilled  in  all  the  industrial  arts ; 
workers  in  wood — turning  out  beautiful  handmade 
furniture;  workers  in  gold,  iron,  silver  and  steel.  In 
the  village  of  New  Braunfels  alone,  there  were  at  this 
time  four  or  five  established  wagon  factories ;  besides 
these,  there  were  flouring  mills  and  breweries  in  all 
the  principal  towns  and  settlements.  Churches  and 
school  houses  were  being  built  everywhere  in  a  solid 
and  lasting  manner — perforce — of  stone,  owing  to  the 
scarcity  of  certain  kinds  of  lumber. 

The  state  of  society  brought  about  by  such  admix 
ture  of  foreign  elements  was  unique.  The  Germans 
had  already  casinos  for  theater,  concerts  and  niusi- 
cales  by  harmonic  clubs,  dancing  and  other  social  en 
tertainments  which  demanded  lager  beer  from  the 
breweries  and  delicatessen  from  the  confectioner — and 
this  all  to  themselves.  European  wines  were  largely 
imported. 


88  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

To  the  planter,  also  exclusive,  belonged  church  going, 
in  all  its  phases — morn,  noon  or  night ;  in  tent,  in  open 
air  or  within  four  walls — it  was  to  all,  if  not  a  duty, 
at  least  a  pleasant  social  function.  For  amusements 
were  hunting,  horseback  riding,  picnics,  and  fishing 
parties — out  of  doors ;  at  home — dinners,  teas,  dancing 
and  cards.  Of  these,  the  most  common  was  dinner- 
giving — by  friend  to  friend,  as  well  as  the  dinner  party 
— usually  lasting  from  two  to  five  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon.  The  distance  making  early  hours  obligatory. 
So  far  only,  could  it  be  likened  to  the  old  life,  for  the 
strict  formalities  indispensable  in  the  long  established 
circles  of  society  in  the  older  states  had  no  place  here. 
The  people  were  more  in  touch,  and  held  together  by  a 
unity  of  purpose,  it  would  be  many  years  before  greater 
numbers  would  force  a  division  into  cliques  or  classes. 
And  then  there  was  the  bond  of  a  common  danger,  for 
the  Indians  had  not  yet  ceased  to  raid  the  country — 
not  only  on  the  frontier,  but  far  inland;  and  many 
lives  had  been  lost  in  the  last  year  or  two.  Basil,  now 
a  f ullfledged  cowboy,  had  with  others  been  in  a  victo 
rious  skirmish  with  a  band  of  thieving  Lipans.  Headed 
by  a  famous  scout  and  ranger,  they  had  retaken  the 
horses  and  driven  the  savages  out  of  the  country. 

The  L.  K.  and  other  adjacent  ranches  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Guadalupe  had  long  been  exempt  from 
such  robberies,  but  of  late  there  had  been  rumors  of 
Indians  seen  in  the  neighborhood;  and  as  there  were 
at  this  time  a  great  number  of  horses,  extra  precau 
tions  were  taken  by  corraling  at  night  and  looking  to 
the  firearms.  In  several  instances,  these  reports  hav 
ing  proved  groundless,  they  grew  carelesss  and  relax 
ing  their  vigilance,  the  children  once  more  resumed 
their  rides. 

Once  they  were  gathering  wild  plums  on  one  of  the 
nameless  tributaries  of  the  Guadalupe.  They  were 
stooping  to  gather  the  fruit  they  had  shaken  from  the 
trees,  when  Felix,  looking  through  a  long  opening, 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  89 

which  divided  the  brush  like  a  road,  caught  sight  of  a 
pair  of  legs  crossing  from  one  side  to  the  other — legs 
only,  for  the  lapping  boughs  overhead  hiding  the  body 
of  the  owner,  nothing  more  could  be  seen. 

"Look,  Daisy,  there  is  another — and  another — and 
still  more!" 

"Don't  you  see  they  are  not  white?  They  are  In 
dians  !  Let  us  run !" 

And  so  they  did — not  venturing  to  cross  the  ford 
below,  but  swimming  across  and  scrambling  up  the 
slippery  bank  on  the  opopsite  side,  made  for  home — 
feeling  that  nothing  on  legs  could  catch  them.  But 
from  that  time  on  they  were  rarely  permitted  to  ride 
alone. 

"They  are  all  running  wild,"  said  Paul.  "We  must 
have  a  governess  for  Felix,  and  Basil  and  Kaspar  must 
go  to  the  day  school  as  soon  as  it  begins,  which  will  be 
very  soon,  as  both  house  and  teacher  stand  in  readi 
ness." 

There  was  now  nowhere  a  more  comfortable  home. 
Furniture  of  all  needful  kinds  had  been  brought  by 
wagon  loads  from  San  Antonio,  and  from  the  turning 
lathes  and  capable  hands  of  German  cabinet  makers 
at  New  Braunfels.  Some  of  this  handiwork  was  in 
native  woods  and  of  no  mean  order.  There  had  been 
little  opportunity  for  selection,  yet  the  result  was  pleas 
ing.  The  largest  room  was  used  as  both  hall  and  par 
lour,  and  on  very  cold  mornings  the  family  breakfast 
was  served  on  the  large  round  center  table — the  din 
ing  room  adjoining  having  no  fireplace  and  as  yet  no 
other  means  of  being  warmed.  The  heavy  sofa,  cor 
responding  with  the  equally  strong  chairs  of  walnut, 
upholstered  with  an  Oriental  fabric  of  linen  and  silk 
brocade — very  thick,  and  tightly  woven  in  softest  and 
darkest  mingling  of  unfading  colors,  were  in  keeping 
with  the  stone  gray  of  the  roughly  finished  walls; 
upon  which  hung,  besides  a  few  engravings,  some  half- 
dozen  family  portraits  in  square  or  oval  frames  of 
oldfashioned  workmanship.  Pictures,  which  Paul  and 


90  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY  . 

Andrea  had  kept  about  them  all  their  lives.  So,  also, 
were  the  silver  candelabra,  the  great  brass  and  irons, 
— low  fenders  and  small  enameled  clock  upon  the  high, 
wide  shelf  which  stood  for  a  mantel-piece.  This  had 
been  further  adorned  with  an  edge  of  dark  red  leather, 
put  on  with  brass  headed  tacks ;  and  supported  besides 
the  clock  some  pretty  work  in  sandal  wood — some 
grotesque  carvings  in  ivory  and  two  or  three  curious 
little  images  brought  from  Arabia  by  a  Darius  ances 
tor, — nobody  knew  how  many  ages  ago.  None  of  the 
negro  servants  would  touch  them. 

"Slip  'em  out,  Candace,  and  frow  'em  in  de  Guad- 
alupe.  Dey'll  think  somebody  stole  'em." 

"That  wouldn't  do.  I'd  have  to  tell  the  truth;  and 
besides,  they  might  come  back!"  said  she  laughing. 
"They're  awfully  heavy  for  their  size,  and  there's  no 
telling  what  they  have  inside." 

To  go  on  with  the  description.  This  was  now  of 
its  original  size — a  good  sensible  room,  as  good  for 
work  as  play.  A  small  inlaid  work  table  stood  near 
one  of  the  two  small  north  windows  and  a  piano  under 
the  other;  on  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  were  a  couple 
of  bookcases  holding  a  small  but  well  chosen  set  of 
books — these  last  forming  the  chief  attraction  of  the 
place. 

The  table  had  been  laid  for  tea  an  hour  ago ;  which 
was  at  half  past  four — the  usual  hour  in  winter — the 
time,  when  Paul,  habitually  punctual,  always  appear 
ed.  It  was  growing  dark  when  he  came. 

"I  took  tea  with  the  Sanfords ;  and  after  it  was  over 
it  was  impossible  to  find  a  place  to  get  off  at.  They 
all  talked  at  once,  and  they  are  fluent — it  tries  both 
the  ingenuity  and  politeness  when  you  happen  to  be 
one  against  three  of  the  same  kind.  They  begged  me 
to  bring  you  on  Monday  evening,  by  force  if  necessary ; 
the  special  reason  being  that  you  may  meet  Mrs.  Wai- 
ridge,  who  is  Col.  Sanford's  sister.  She  leaves  for  Vir- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  91 

ginia  on  the  following  day.  I  must  also  let  you  know 
that  you  will  find  everything  at  sixes  and  sevens,  so 
that  you  may  not  be  needlessly  alarmed  when  you 
get  there. 

"If  it  is  not  too  far  for  you,  Andrea,  we  will  all  walk. 
Col.  Sanford  would  like  to  beat  me  at — he  does  not 
care  what  game  at  cards;  and  we  will  have  to  take 
Felicia  and  Basil  along  to  take  a  hand, — for  Mrs.  An 
drews  made  a  point  of  telling  me  that  she  wouldn't 
play,  but  would  devote  all  the  evening  to  talk.  Miss 
Sanford,  who  is  a  cripple,  unfortunately,  said  she  also 
would  converse." 

"Is  she?  I  have  seen  them  both  in  the  distance, 
when  riding,  but  of  course  did  not  discover  it.  How 
is  she  a  cripple?" 

"A  partial  paralysis  of  the  left  side.  She  is  fully  as 
handsome  as  her  sister,  but  of  course  not  so  graceful, 
as  she  walks  with  difficulty,  even  with  her  crutch. 
Mrs.  Andrews  wanted  me  to  tell  you  that  she  thinks 
she  knows  of  a  governess  who  will  suit  you;  and  that 
she,  herself,  was  taking  music  lessons  of  a  German 
who  teaches  both  piano  and  violin;  he  lives  at  Senne- 
feldt.  This  will  allow  both  Basil  and  Felix  to  again 
take  up  their  music.  We  also,  at  least  I,  might  take 
up  some  lost  threads;  another  year  of  such  an  idle, 
irregular  life  just  at  a  time  when  they  most  need  in 
struction  would  be  ruinous." 

Paul  had  awakened  to  the  fact  that  something  had 
to  be  done,  and  felt  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  He 
began  to  realize  how  much  of  his  bounden  duty  he  had 
shirked.  With  the  exception  of  Henry  and  Kaspar,  all 
their  children  had  at  times  required  the  sternest  disci 
pline;  even  Felix  was  not  exempt.  All  this  had  been 
left  to  Darius  and  their  mother.  He  himself  never 
having  received  corporal  punishment  either  at  home 
or  at  school,  was  at  first  sensitive  and  a  little  inclined 
to  rebel.  But  noting  the  good  effects,  amongst  which 
could  be  named  a  passionate  devotion  to  both  mother 


92  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

and  uncle,  he  held  his  peace,  and  when  hearing  the 
sharp,  incisive  command — "Take  off  your  jacket!" — 
he  would  close  his  door  until  the  following  heart-break 
ing  noises  had  ceased — knowing  that  it  must  be  done 
and  thankful  to  escape  the  disagreeable  necessity  of 
having  to  do  it  himself. 

Basil  had  behaved  well  in  the  Indian  skirmish.  Since 
that  time  he  had  begged  to  be  allowed  to  enter  the 
ranger  service,  and  when  denied  had  shown  signs  of 
unruliness. 

"I  see,  Basil, — I  see  plainly  what  you  have  in  your 
mind.  Will  you  or  will  you  not,  abide  by  what  Uncle 
Darius  says  of  it?" 

"I  will  abide  by  what  you  say  of  it,"  said  the  boy, 
much  abashed;  "I  wrote  to  Uncle  Darius,  telling  him 
mother  was  willing,  but  whatever  his  answer  may  be, 
father,  I  will  do  as  you  say." 

"Your  mother  would  always  be  anxious;  it  would 
not  be  natural  for  her  to  be  otherwise ;  it  would  shorten 
her  life." 

This  question  was  settled;  but  how  quick  had  been 
the  transition — he  was  but  eighteen; — an  age  when 
some  are  mere  lads,  but  this  fellow  was  tall  and  had 
the  look  and  bearing  of  a  man.  At  first  Paul  was 
proud  of  the  new  accomplishments — proud  to  know 
that  in  many  things  he  was  second  to  none  in  the 
country.  He  had  before  been  familiar  with  the  use 
of  firearms,  was  indeed  a  good  marksman  at  the  age 
of  twelve  years ;  and  was  even  a  fair  swordsman.  Dar 
ius  had  taken  care  of  that.  But  now  he  was  one  of  the 
"best  shots"  in  the  country — and  here  this  meant  a 
great  deal;  he  could  also  "ride  anything"  or  "throw  a 
lasso  with  any  Mexican  or  Indian."  He  was  very  pop 
ular,  both  with  women  and  with  men. 

That  was  all  very  well ;  but  it  was  not  enough ;  the 
great  trouble  being  that  the  boy  seemed  to  think  it  was, 
and  to  be  incapable  of  looking  beyond  or  above  it. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  93 

One  night  Paul,  belated,  was  returning  from  a  bus 
iness  visit  to  Sennefeldt,  a  pioneer  village  with  dwell 
ings  a  little  distance  apart  on  both  sides  of  a  wide  lane 
or  road.  He  had  left  this  a  mile  or  two  behind  when 
he  heard  music  and  loud  sounds  of  merriment  coming 
from  the  woodland  on  the  wayside.  A  turn  in  the  road 
brought  to  view  a  gay  scene.  A  ballroom  in  the  open 
air  with  the  smoothly  hardened  and  sanded  earth  for  a 
floor — the  sky  for  a  ceiling — and  walled  in  by  the  outer 
darkness.  A  party — made  up  of  every  sort, — Ger 
mans,  Poles  and  Mexicans — men,  women  and  children 
— from  the  oldest  grandparents  to  the  youngest  in 
fants,  interspersed  with  cowboys,  dressed  in  wide  hats, 
topboots,  cartridge  belts  and  pistols,  and  dancing  in 
wild  and  uproarious  abandon.  At  one  end  of  the  square 
white  floor  was  a  table,  on  which,  besides  stacked  up 
loaves  of  bread,  were  baskets  of  cake,  pretzel,  platters 
of  well  cooked  pork  and  things  made  of  pork;  and  to 
crown  all  many  kegs  of  lager  beer — kept  in  circulation 
by  a  dozen  or  more  swift  footed  boys  and  girls.  At 
the  other  end  were  a  crowd  of  women  and  children 
not  dancing,  and  a  string  band,  consisting  of  a  couple 
of  young  Germans,  a  Pole — and — Basil !  The  two  first 
named  and  the  last,  in  full  cowboy  rig — with  hats  off 
— were  playing  their  best;  and  it  was  no  mean  per 
formance;  but  to  Paul,  in  his  present  state  of  mind, 
it  looked  like  an  orgy.  What  right  had  such  young 
men  as  the  two  Germans,  the  handsome  young  Pole 
and  Basil  to  intrude  themselves — for  it  must  be  an  in 
trusion  to  at  least  the  male  portion  of  the  community ; 
he  noticed  that  but  few  of  these  were  dancing,  and  that 
those  who  were  not,  looked  sullen.  His  first  impulse 
had  been  to  get  out  of  the  buggy,  tie  his  horse  and 
warn  them  away;  but  it  was  all  new  to  him  and  he 
might  be  meddling.  He  again  looked  towards  Basil; 
he  and  his  young  German  friends  were  standing  under 
a  colored  lantern  swinging  from  an  under  limb  of  a  tall 
hackberry  tree.  How  handsome  they  looked — like 
young  Saxons  both  of  them — all  the  more  for  the  con- 


94  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

trast  to  those  about  them.  He  drove  on  thinking  of 
Darius  and  this  unruly  boy.  How  easly  had  Darius 
managed  them  all.  He  now  fully  understood  that  the 
burden  of  their  parting  had  fallen  heaviest  upon  him 
self.  Of  late  he  in  dealing  with  his  oldest  son,  had 
met  with  an  unlocked  for,  stubborn  willfulness,  to 
which  he  had  for  most  part  yielded ;  not  caring  to  trou 
ble  Andrea  with  it,  and  knowing  besides,  that  only  the 
firm  strong  hand  of  a  man  would  be  of  any  use  here. 
Admitting  that  he  might  become  unmanageable — was 
he  the  kind  of  a  man  to  work  his  redemption?  Of 
mediocre  intellect,  might  he  not  develop  into  a  des 
perado?  Again  came  to  mind  the  warning  of  Darius 
— or  the  words  which  might  have  been  construed  as 
such. 

"We  are  not  the  kind  of  men  to  be  made  over  into 
pioneers,  Paul,  and  I  will  not  go  with  you  to  Texas; 
neither  will  I  sit  down  and  cry  over  the  separation." 
Well,  well;  he  would  do  his  best.  It  would  not  do  to 
send  him  out  of  the  country  just  yet;  the  uncertainty 
of  his  mother's  condition  forbidding  even  a  thought 
of  such  a  thing.  But  there  was  his  violin.  How  well 
he  played !  Both  he  and  Felix  must  take  up  their  les 
sons  again.  If  music  had  power  over  the  savage  breast 
it  might  act  as  a  preventive  in  this  case,  and  he  would 
leave  nothing  undone.  There  were  other  troubles — 
present  and  coming  business  perplexities.  In  Texas, 
at  that  time,  men  bought  land  by  the  league;  tempted 
by  the  extraordinary  low  prices,  he  had  burdened  him 
self  with  unproductive  property ;  this  with  the  increas 
ed  expenses  by  reason  of  necessary  improvements,  left 
him  crippled  for  money.  "If  all  turned  out  as  he  had 
planned  he  would  be  rich."  But  nothing  had  been  quite 
as  he  had  hoped.  A  lifelong  student,  he  had  to  in  part 
give  up  his  books,  so  incessant  were  the  demands  upon 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  95 

his  time.  However,  as  ruin  had  not  yet  come,  and 
probably  would  not  come,  he  would  not  advance  to  meet 
it.  He  was  near  home  and  there  was  a  light,  and  An 
drea  was  still  awake. 

"Did  you  see  Basil,  Paul?" 

"Yes,  Andrea,  I  left  him  dancing  in  the  woods." 

"Dancing  in  the  woods?  Where  and  with  whom?" 
she  laughingly  asked. 

"A  mile  or  two  back,  and  with  some  young  maraud 
ers  like  himself." 

"Don't  joke,  Paul;  marauders  are  always  robbers. 
Tell  me  what  he  was  doing,  and  who  were  with  him." 

"Well — young  rovers,  if  you  like — Otto  Hillebrand, 
his  brother,  and  one  or  two  others  who  would  better 
be  at  school  or  at  home."  He  gave  her  a  humorous 
account  of  the  scene — very  much  at  variance  with  his 
real  thoughts  and  feelings  about  the  matter. 

"Do  you  think  Basil  ought  to  go  to  such  places?" 
Paul  ventured. 

"Such  places?  Why,  Paul,  those  people  are  harm 
less,  and  very  interesting.  Did  you  say  Basil  was 
dancing  with  them?"  she  again  inquired. 

"When  I  saw  him  last,  and  with  the  belle  of  the  ball. 
At  first  he  and  Otto  Hillebrand  formed  part  of  the 
band  and  were  playing  for  all  they  were  worth.  No, 
Andrea,  I  meant  no  disparagement  to  the  people ;  they 
are  sober,  quiet  citizens  and  know  what  they  are  about 
— but  the  cowboys  were  in  full  force,  and  were  drink 
ing;  they  had  already  begun  to  look  like  they  neither 
knew  nor  cared  what  they  might  soon  be  about.  But — " 
he  added  quickly,  "there  really  seems  to  have  been  no 
excuse  for  the  way  I  felt  about  it ;  for  a  minute  or  two 
I  had  a  good  mind  to  warn  them;  I  was  in  fact  more 
repelled  than  attracted  by  the  pretty  scene,  for  some 
of  the  women  looked  and  acted  in  ways  that  were  far 
from  modest.  But  when  I  saw  that  the  waltz  partners 


96  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

of  Otto  and  Basil  were  the  Schmidt  girls — each  weigh 
ing  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds,  I  knew  they  were 
safe  for  awhile  at  least;  especially  as  Frau  Schmidt 
was  on  hand.  Being  very  tired,  I  came  home.  We 
will  not  sit  up  for  Basil." 

But  there  had  been  cause  for  fear.  The  next  morn 
ing  at  sunrise,  Paul  found  Basil  at  the  horse-corral; 
he  had  just  come  on,  and  was  giving  directions  to  a 
vaquero  about  his  horse  which  seemed  very  tired — 
indeed  hardly  able  to  stand — with  legs  far  apart  and 
drooping  head.  Basil  turning  at  the  moment  and  fac 
ing  him,  was  little  better  off.  Pale,  staggering — with 
smears  of  blood  on  clothes,  face  and  hands,  he  saw  his 
father  and  reeled  towards  him. 

"My  God,  Basil,  how  is  it  you  are  covered  with 
blood!  Are  you  hurt?  Come  into  your  room  and  tell 
me." 

'Tm  not  hurt,  father,  but  there  was  a  fight  last  night 
and  a  man  was  killed."  He  threw  himself  heavily 
upon  the  bed,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  for 
sometime  breathed  heavily. 

"Basil,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  tell  me  that  you  did 
not  kill  him!" 

"No,  no,  father,  but  I  am  to  blame — all  of  us  are  to 
blame.  It's  a  young  man,  a  stranger — a  Polander, 
named  Oskar  Leibelt.  We  were  all  at  Sennefeldt — the 
Hillebrands,  Leibelt  and  myself;  Otto,  John  and  I  had 
been  helping  the  Erskines  round  up,  just  for  fun,  and 
coming  back  stopped  to  see  the  Schmidt  family,  who 
invited  us  to  an  open  air  supper  and  dance.  We  were 
early.  Just  at  dusk  another  gang  of  cow-boys  from 

the  A 1  ranch  came  along.  There  were  eight  or 

ten  of  them,  and  seeing  us  there  they  took  it  for  a  free 
thing  all  round ;  and  pitched  into  the  beer  and  whiskey 
at  once.  The  older  men  kept  urging  them  to  drink, 
but  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  the  young  Deutchers  didn't 
like  it,  for  they  were  being  crowded  out  of  every  dance 
by  the  cow-boys;  Otto  and  I  went  among  them  and 
tried  to  persuade  them  to  go  home,  but  they  were  too 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  97 

far  gone  to  notice  us.  There  were  two  or  three  girls 
they  all  wanted  to  dance  with.  One  of  these  had 
danced  with  Oskar  Leibelt  several  times;  he  does  not 
belong  to  the  Polish  settlement  here,  but  had  stopped 
with  the  priest  at  Sennefeldt,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
Panna  Maria  on  the  San  Antoinio  river.  He  had  stop 
ped  for  a  day  or  two  with  the  priest  at  Sennefeldt, 
and—" 

"I  saw  him  in  the  afternoon,  he  was  about  to  mount 

his  horse  in  front  of  Father  B 's  residence  and 

looked  like  a  traveler,  having  a  good  horse  and  a  sad 
dle  with  a  peculiar  leather  traveling-case  strapped  to 
the  back  of  it.  The  man,  himself,  being  so  decidedly 
foreign-looking  and  of  such  distinguished  bearing,  I 

inquired  of  Father  B k  about  him  when  I  went 

in.  Father  B k  told  me  that  he  was  the  nephew 

of  a  Polish  general — a  patriot — who  after  fighting  the 
Prussians,  Austrians,  and  Russians  at  home  had  vol 
unteered  to  fight  the  latter  again  in  the  Turkish  war 
and  was  killed;  his  family  drifting  to  France,  this 
young  man  had  come  here  like  many  other  adventur 
ers  of  his  class.  He  was  afraid  it  was  a  mistake  as  so 
few  of  them  had  ever  done  well.  I  passed  your  party 
later,  Basil;  you — the  Hillebrand  brothers  and  this 
young  man  were  playing,  for  the  others  to  dance.  I 
came  in  an  ace  of  stopping  to  warn  you — but  thinking 
only  of  those  drunken  cow-boys." 

"They  were  bad  enough;  but  the  other  was  worse, 
and  I  wish  to  God  you  had  scattered  us ;  but  I'm  com 
ing  to  that.  Justin  Hamberger  was  one  of  the  musi 
cians — he  is  the  son  of  a  butcher  at  S n." 

"I  know  both  of  them — father  and  son." 

"The  girl  preferred  by  Leibelt  was  Justin's  sweet 
heart;  they  are — or  were  going  to  be  married.  I  like 
him ;  I  saw  how  he  was  affected  by  it,  and  to  stop  the 
Polander  I  proposed  to  take  his  place  in  the  band — 
in  fact  Otto,  John  and  I,  dragging  in  Leibelt,  made  up 
a  band.  Leibelt,  who  played  better  than  any  of  us 
didn't  want  to  join  us  but  we  made  him,  and  went 


98  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

among  the  cow-boys  and  got  them  to  sit  down,  and  the 
others  got  a  chance  to  waltz  with  their  sweethearts. 
We  played  until  we  were  called  to  supper;  we  sat  at 
a  little  table  to  ourselves,  that  is  the  Hillebrands  and 
myself.  We  had  finished  and  were  talking ;  the  danc 
ing  had  begun  with  the  same  old  band,  when  the  first 
thing  we  knew,  there  was  Leibelt  again,  waltzing  with 
Anna  Kapek.  We  saw  that  our  interference  had  been 
useless — and  that  the  girl  and  the  handsome  stranger 
were  two  of  a  kind.  All  at  once,  they  waltzed  out  into 
the  darkness  and  we  saw  them  no  more.  We  talked 
awhile  with  two  old  fellows  who  sat  down  at  our  table, 
and  then  hunted  up  the  Schmidts  to  thank  them  for  a 
pleasant  evening;  for  though  a  little  disgusted  it  was 
not  with  them.  The  A 1  gang  were  also  leav 
ing — yelling  and  firing  off  pistols.  When  we  were 
going  for  our  horses  the  rain  was  beginning  to  fall  in 
big  drops  and  it  was  very  dark;  but  we  noticed  that 
there  was  a  fourth  man  walking  nearly  abreast  with 
us.  We  paid  but  little  attention  to  him,  believing  he 
was  also  going  for  his  horse.  He  was  next  to  Otto — 
almost  on  a  line  with  him — when  a  heavy  set  fellow 
came  up  behind  us,  lurching  along  as  if  drunk,  and 
seemed  to  purposely  run  up  against  him.  Both  stag 
gered  : — the  big  man  hurried  out  into  the  chaparral. 

"What  was  it?"  we  all  asked,  in  a  breath;  going 
back  a  little  to  where  the  other  was  still  standing. 

It  was  Leibelt ;  his  hands  were  pressed  upon  his  sides 
and  he  looked  unsteady. 

"How  was  that?"  Otto  asked  him. 

"That  man  struck  me  as  he  passed,"  he  said;  and 
rather  hurriedly  went  to  a  tree  near  the  one  to  which 
our  horses  were  tied — got  his  own  and  rode  off — tak 
ing  our  road.  We  wondered  whether  or  not  the  man 
really  struck  him.  We  mounted,  but  were  called  back 
and  kept  talking  by  some  German  boys,  about  some 
trivial  but  very  funny  things  which  had  happened  at 
the  close  of  the  evening.  After  we  had  gone  half  a 
mile  or  so,  it  began  to  rain  in  good  earnest  and  we  ran 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  99 

to  shelter  under  a  cow  shed.  It  rained  in  sheets  and 
torrents  for  at  least  one  hour;  bringing  the  time  to 
about  one  hour  and  a  half  to  daylight,  when  we  at  last 
got  to  the  arroyo,  which  though  not  running  before  the 
rain,  was  now  belly-deep  to  a  horse.  A  little  to  the 
right  above,  we  saw  Leibelt's  horse  grazing  about  with 
a  saddle  on ;  looking  further  up  where  had  been  a  little 
shallow  stream  we  found  Leibelt,  himself,  lying  at  the 
edge  of  the  water.  At  first  in  the  dim  starlight  we 
thought  he  was  asleep — perhaps  intoxicated.  We  called 
him;  then  getting  down  from  our  horses  we  struck 
matches  and  saw  that  he  was  dead;  and  that,  for  an 
hour  or  more,  for  the  water  must  have  flowed  over 
him  and  receded,  lifting  his  hair  upwards  and  back 
wards,  and  his  clothing  was  saturated  with  blood  and 
water.  We  did  not  move  him,  but  stayed  by  until  John 
went  back  and  brought  the  sheriff  and  physician,  who 
made  the  inquest ;  he  had  been  stabbed  in  the  back,  and 
I  think  I  know  by  whom." 

"Whom  do  you  think  it  was?" 

"I  think  it  was  Justin  Hamberger;  but  father,  I  do 
not  know.  Something  in  the  way  he  carried  himself — 
a  swinging,  and  rather  peculiar  movement  of  his  arms 
and  legs,  making  his  walk  like  that  of  a  man  not  burd 
ened  with  weight.  He  dances  in  the  same  way — he  is 
graceful.  Now,  father,  what  is  my  duty?  The  others 
do  not  even  guess." 

"You  say  that  Leibelt  disappeared  in  the  darkness 
with  Justin's  sweetheart  ?  How  long  were  they  gone  ?" 

"We  did  not  notice." 

"You  are  sure  that  you  do  not  know  who  struck 
Leibelt?" 

"I  would  not  swear." 

"Then  hold  your  tongue.    Give  only  what  you  know." 

"Thank  God  for  that,  father.  I  felt  all  wrong— that 
in  some  way,  Otto,  John  and  I  were  responsible,  that 
we  ought  not  to  have  been  present;  we  were  first  to 
get  partners,  and  though  we  had  the  right  as  invited 
guests,  neither  Leibelt  nor  the  A 1  gang  knew 


100  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

of  that,  and  followed  as  could  plainly  be  seen  what 
they  took  to  be  our  bad  example.  If  it  is  wicked  I 
can  not  help  it,  but  I  would  like  to  save  these  poor 
people  and  their  boy  from  the  consequences  of  this  ter 
rible  act.  I  was  afraid  I  ought  to  tell  what  I  thought." 

"So  far  from  that  it  would  be  a  great  error  to  tell 
what  you  thought.  In  this  case  and  in  all  cases  like  it, 
we  have  to  deal  with  facts — not  suppositions.  I  will 
explain  more  fully — " 

But  Basil  did  not  hear.  He  had  ridden  hard  the  day 
before  and  had  not  slept.  Paul  wetted  a  towel  in  the 
wash-basin  and  wiped  the  bloodstains  from  his  face 
and  hands ;  the  cold  water  roused  him. 

"How  did  you  get  blood  on  yourself — why  not  get 
up  and  change  your  clothes?" 

"His  coat  and  vest  had  been  taken  off;  when  they 
put  him  in  the  cart.  I  spread  them  over  the  body ;  they 
were  full  of  blood!  Oh,  father,  let  me  sleep!" 

Paul  called  Polydore.  Together  they  drew  off  the 
boots,  straightened  the  pillow  and  threw  a  coverlet 
over  the  feet  of  the  exhausted  young  man. 

With  all  the  horror  of  the  tragedy  still  upon  him, 
Paul  felt  a  sense  of  relief,  but  it  was  very  much  mixed 
with  another  feeling — that  he  had  been  bitterly  un 
just  in  his  estimate  of  his  son: — that  he  had  under 
rated  him  in  every  way.  The  boy  had  conscience,  in 
the  first  place.  He  was  brave,  he  had  shown  discre 
tion — he  was  proud — he  would  be  loyal  to  his  friends — 
he  was  honourable.  And  he  had  feared  that  he  might 
hereafter  become  a  desperado !  With  something  like  a 
self -contempt,  he  decided  that  he  could  now  afford  to 
be  patient  with  his  faults  and  hopeful  of  his  future. 

This  happened  over  fifty  years  ago,  and  that  is  a 
long  time,  dear  reader,  but  no  one  has  ever  found  out 
who  killed  Oscar  Leibelt. 

Justin  Hamberger  has  grandchildren,  (  and  among 
them  is  one  Basil  Hamberger,)  but  he  did  not  marry 
Anna  Kapek. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"DEAD  MAN'S  HOLLOW." 

A  long,  low  one-story  building  of  yellow  gray  stone — 
of  the  kind  which  looks  old  as  soon  as  taken  from  the 
quarry — of  rubble-work,  and  built  in  line  with  a  string 
of  white- washed  jacals,  was  the  new  home  of  the 
Sanfords. 

They  had  intended  to  walk,  but  it  had  rained — was 
still  raining;  Paul,  Andrea,  Basil,  and  Felicia — all  of 
them  in  a  carriage  had  taken  shelter  beneath  a  big  live- 
oak  under  which  sat  huddled  together,  flat  on  the 
ground,  three  Mexican  herdsmen,  their  blankets  drawn 
close  about  them.  Drops  of  water  sifting  through  the 
leafy  roof  fell  upon  their  wide  hats — dripping  from  the 
edges  to  the  ground  below.  Felicia — and  Basil,  with 
his  violin  safe  in  its  case,  made  a  dash  for  the  veranda, 
while  Paul,  and  the  mother  prudently  sat  still  until 
the  shower  was  over. 

"We  were  to  bring  Felix,  Basil,  and  his  violin — and 
here  they  are,"  said  Paul,  introducing  them  to  Mrs. 
Andrews,  who  was  looking  beautiful  in  a  dress  of  soft 
black  cloth,  which  as  this  was  a  little  before  the  hoop- 
skirt  era,  fell  in  folds  about  her  graceful  form.  Her 
abundant  yellow  brown  hair —  turned  back  from  a 
pretty  forehead  was  gathered  in  a  knot  low  at  the 
back,  and  a  wide  lace  collar  fastened  with  a  bow  of 
lavender  ribbon,  adorned  the  lovely  neck.  After  fur 
ther  greetings  when  the  others  came  in,  the  subject 
of  Saturday  night's  tragedy  was  taken  up  by  Col.  San- 
ford,  who  had  heard  only  current  reports,  which, 
though  true  in  the  main,  were  far  from  accurate  in 
the  details. 

"At  first  it  seemed  evident  that  the  object  was  rob 
bery;  Renslaer  told  me  he  was  followed  by  a  man  be 
longing  to  the  A 1  ranch  employes,  among  whom 

were  two  Mexicans ;  it  might  have  been  one  or  both  of 


102  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


them.  It  was  notable,  however,  that  although  his 
traveling-case  had  been  unlocked,  nothing  was  taken — 
his  money  and  papers,  both  being  undisturbed;  the 
case  itself  hanging  by  one  strap  only  to  the  saddle — 
the  other  having  been  unbuckled.  The  man  was  shot 
in  the  back."  Paul  glanced  at  Basil,  who  had  not  look 
ed  up.  He  was  curious  to  know  what  course  he  would 
take,  and  was  sorry  he  had  not  given  him  a  hint.  But 
he  replied  instantaneously. 

"It  was  a  knife  wound,  Col.  Sanford,  and  it  may  be 
as  you  say,  that  he  may  have  been  followed ;  but  there 

were  no  Mexicans  with  the  A 1  herd  that  week, 

nor  for  a  month  or  more  before.  I  was  present  when 
he  was  found — the  Hillebrand  brothers  and  I  found 
him." 

"Then  you  can  tell  us  all  about  it." 

"I  can  not;  I  know  nothing  more." 

Dinner  over,  the  leaves  lowered,  the  massive  table 
was  rolled  to  the  wall;  against  which  leaned  unhung 
window-sash  and  doors: — the  windows  reaching  to 
the  floor,  being  roughly  boarded  up  to  keep  out  the 
rain,  Mexican  blankets  taking  the  place  of  curtains. 
Shavings  curled  up  in  the  corners,  and  a  carpenter's 
bench  stood  in  one  end  of  the  large  room ;  but  when  a 
card-table  was  brought  in  and  candles  lit  in  tripods 
and  candlesticks,  it  held  a  charming  picture.  Basil 
and  his  father  against  Col.  Sanford  and  Felicia.  Mrs. 
Andrews,  Andrea  and  Miss  Sanford  near  the  fire-place 
carrying  on  an  animated  conversation  had  exhausted 
the  subjects  of  gardening,  poultry  and  the  dairy,  and 
had  got  through  with  those  pertaining  to  social  matters 
like  churches,  schools,  etc.,  and  were  now  speaking  of 
Felicia's  beauty;  each  one  of  the  sisters  naming  some 
one  whom  she  resembled. 

"What  colour  are  your  daughter's  eyes  and  hair  in 
daylight?"  asked  Miss  Sanford. 

"Her  eyes  are  dark  gray ;  her  hair  is,  I  believe,  au 
burn,  but  quite  dark  at  night  or  in  the  shade." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  103 

"Her  father  calls  her  Felix,  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  An 
drews.  "A  pretty  conceit ;  I  like  it  and  I  intend  to  call 
her  that — though  she  is  not  in  the  least  like  a  boy." 

The  story  of  the  twin-brother  was  told,  and  sad 
mutual  confidences  followed. 

"I  am  so  pleased  that  you  are  favourably  impressed 
by  Felicia,  Miss  Sanford ;  my  husband  tells  me  that  you 
are  a  great  reader;  in  that  respect  you  will  be  con 
genial.  For  that  reason  alone  it  would  be  pleasant  to 
have  a  little  society  of  our  own.  With  your  large  and 
our  smaller  library,  it  could  be  made  interesting  for 
a  long  time  yet  to  come." 

"It  would  be  a  Godsend  to  me,"  said  Miss  Sanford — 
holding  down  her  tremulous  left  hand  with  her  right. 

"And  I?  Will  you  admit  me  into  the  organization?" 
asked  Mrs.  Andrews. 

"That  goes  without  saying,  Ellie,  that  is  whenever 
you're  at  home.  Elinor  is  often  away,  Mrs.  Bathurst, 
and  that  is  the  principal  cause  of  my  delight  at  your 
proposition." 

"Don't  give  Mrs.  Bathurst  a  false  impression,  Lew- 
ellyn,"  and  addressing  Andrea,  she  added ;  "I  am  often 
away,  but  never  longer  than  two  days.  I  would  not 
leave  my  sister  at  any  time  if  it  could  be  avoided." 

"Mr.  Bathurst  told  us  you  wanted  a  governess;  I 
think  I  know  of  a  good  one.  Elinor,  don't  you  think 
Miss  Boling  would  suit?" 

Mrs.  Andrews  laughed.  "Not  if  personal  beauty  is 
a  requisite.  But  brains?  Yes.  She  has  been  educated 
like  a  man." 

"She  knows  no  French,  I  am  afraid." 

"She  knows  Spanish,  and  I  believe  Latin." 

"That  is  how  she  lost  her  place  in  the  academy?  It 
was  not  by  way  of  being  ignorant — but  by  knowing 
too  much.  It  was  hinted  that  she  was  too  officious 
in  correcting  some  Latin  exercises — previously  gone 
over  by  Professor  Foxley,  and  in  other  like  manner 
made  herself  offensive  to  some  of  the  younger  teachers. 
So  it  was  thought  best  by  the  faculty  to  let  her  out  this 


104  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

year.  She  secured  some  private  pupils,  but  the  money 
she  made  by  that  was  not  sufficient  for  her  wants, 
and  now  she  is  making  a  bare  living  by  dress-making. 
She  is  one  of  the  best  of  women,  honest  and  kind- 
hearted,  but  at  times  gruff  almost  to  rudeness.  A 
good  Christian  and  member  of  our  church.  When  we 
know  the  rough  points  the  way  is  not  so  hard.  Mrs. 
Bathurst,  you  could  manage  her,  I  feel  assured." 

"You  have  told  us  nothing  about  her  that  would  in 
terfere  with  her  usefulness,  and  I  wish  in  my  heart 
she  could  get  something  to  do,"  said  Miss  Sanford.  "I 
know  her  to  be  deserving." 

"I  think  she  would  suit,"  said  Andrea.  "How  can  I 
manage  to  have  an  interview  with  her?" 

"I  am  going  to  Bosquet  to-morrow,  and  I  will  ask 
her  for  a  week's  visit.  Lewellyn  always  enjoys  being 
with  her.  Without  giving  a  reason,  I  will  manage  to 
bring  her  to  your  house  for  investigation." 

"I  will  be  so  obliged.  It  will  give  me  a  chance  to  see 
how  Felicia  takes  to  her.  I  would  not  like  to  risk 
anyone  who  might  turn  out  to  be  antipathetic.  As 
for  French,  Paul  assists  Felicia  and  corrects  her  exer 
cises  and  accent.  Does  Miss  Boling  know  music?" 

"She  sang  in  the  choir  at  Sennfeldt,  but  I  do  not 
think  she  teaches  music  in  any  form.  But  there  is  in 
Sennfeldt,  a  German  musician  of  the  highest  class — 
a  composer  and  a  fine  teacher.  He  has  however  more 
than  he  can  do  and  of  late  has  employed  an  assistant — 
a  very  nice  looking  young  man — also  a  German,  and 
it  is  said,  quite  as  good  a  teacher  as  Professor  Behr. 
I  take  a  lesson  every  two  weeks;  I  could  take  Felix 
with  me.  She  would  have  to  stay  over  night.  How 
would  that  do?" 

"That  would  be  all  I  would  ask  and  all  she  would 
need." 

Mrs.  Walridge,  who  had  been  resting  in  her  room 
since  dinner,  now  came  in.  Mrs.  Andrews  rose  from 
a  rocking-  chair  by  the  fire-place,  took  her  aunt's 
hand  and  led  her,  though  protesting,  to  the  seat. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  105 

"This  is  your  corner,  Aunt  Kitty."  She  sat  down; 
and  looking  askance  at  the  players,  said  to  Andrea : — 

"Do  you  approve  of  that?" 

Andrea  replied  by  a  smile,  making  no  further  an 
swer.  "That"  meant  cards.  The  silence  at  the  card- 
table  had  been  interrupted  at  the  end  of  each  rubber 
by  loud  shouts  of  laughter  from  Col.  Sanford,  which 
might  be  said  to  have  shown  the  progress  of  the  game. 
Just  now  there  were  uproarious  shouts  of  victory.  The 
attention  of  all  turned  to  the  combatants.  Especially 
to  Basil,  who  rising  in  a  rage,  threw  down  his  cards 
refusing  to  play. 

"I  won't  play  another  game.  I  don't  mind  Col. 
Sanford,  he  has  a  right  to  laugh,  for  he  wins — but 
Felix — I  know  I've  made  father  lose  every  rubber,  but 
she  has  no  business  to  crow.  I  haven't  learned  the 
game  yet,  but  if  I  couldn't  beat  Felix  in  a  week,  I 
would  count  myself  out  and  quit  trying." 

"Quit  trying  any  how,  my  son,  it  is  a  wicked  waste 
of  time  and  thought.  The  playing  of  cards  is  an  in 
vention  of  the  devil.  A  trap  to  lead  the  young  into  a 
world  of  idleness  and  sin,"  said  old  Mrs.  Walridge, 
rising  to  her  feet  in  her  earnestness. 

"Pick  up  your  cards,  Basil,  and  control  your  tem 
per,"  said  Paul.  "If  you  had  been  studying  the  game 
intelligently  you  couldn't  have  been  provoked.  Every 
defeat  is  a  lesson.  It  is  only  as  a  scientific  problem, 
that  the  game  of  whist  should  be  studied.  Very  few 
do  that,  so  it  might  be  well  for  you  to  listen  to  Mrs. 
Walridge,  and  learn  what  can  be  said  against  it." 

"Almost  any  problem  would  puzzle  me;  but  Mr. 
Bathurst,  I  have  seen  respectable  women,  who  passed 
for  ladies,  almost  come  to  blows  over  a  game  of  whist 
or  euchre." 

"Don't  play,  Basil." 

"But  Mrs.  Walridge,  I  think  like  father,  that  it  is 
good  for  the  mind  if  we  go  about  it  in  the  right  way." 

"But  the  temptation  may  come;  you  may  be  ban 
tered  into  playing  for  gain.  If  you  knew  of  the  lost 


106  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

fortunes,  of  the  ruined  homes,  the  broken  hearts,  that 
I  have  known  in  my  long  life,  you  would  shudder  at 
the  sight  of  a  card." 

"Sister  Catherine,  I've  played  cards  all  my  life,  since 
I  was  old  enough  to  hold  a  hand.  I  know  more  than 
a  half  dozen  games  besides  this.  All  card-players  are 
not  gamblers;  I've  never  gained  or  lost  a  dollar  by 
it.  If  a  boy  wants  to  be  a  gambler,  he'll  find  the  path 
you  speak  of — which  leads  to  the  gambling  hall  or  den 
as  the  case  may  be — the  hall  if  high — the  den — if  low — 
and  both  wicked  enough  to  need  lectures  like  yours — " 

She  interrupted  him  abruptly  and  gruffly: 

"In  other  words,  Rupert,  my  advice  to  Basil  is  out 
of  place ; — I'm  sorry — ,"  she  had  glanced  at  Miss  San- 
ford.  "Don't  be  afraid,  Lewellyn, — I  will  say  no 
more." 

"Don't  be  troubled  about  me,  Mrs.  Walridge,  I'll 
never  be  a  gambler,"  said  Basil.  "I'm  quite  sure  of 
that." 

The  Colonel — (sotto  voce) — "There!  Basil,  my  son, 
I  give  you  thanks." 

"What  for,  sir?" 

"For  the  way  you  answered  her; — both  times.  We 
can  finish  the  rubber  now; — we  came  very  near  hav 
ing  to  throw  up  our  hands  in  a  family  row.  It's  her 
hobby." 

"I'm  sorry  I  lost  my  temper,  sir,"  said  Basil,  as 
he  dealt  the  cards  for  the  second  game. 

"Elinor,  bring  some  of  your  best  cake  and  a  bottle 
of  that  wine  your  Aunt  Kitty  brought  from  Virginia. 
I  might  retaliate  by  a  lecture  on  temperance, — but  I 
like  this  wine — and  she  makes  it,  herself."  Tipping 
his  glass  against  Paul's,  he  said:  "Here's  to  wine! 
Always  drink  but  never  gamble!" 


"From  the  first  Miss  Boling  was  at  home.  So  the 
family  felt.  "We  are  all  pleased  with  Felicia's  teacher, 
an  elderly  maiden  lady  of  over  fifty  years,"  Paul  said 
in  writing  to  his  mother.  She  justified  Miss  San- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  107 

ford's  opinion  that  she  would  suit  Mrs.  Bathurst.  As 
to  herself,  she  was  happier  than  she  had  ever  been 
since  she  had  left  her  father's  roof.  Her  room  joined 
that  of  Felix,  and  both  had  been  finished  in  walnut 
wood  since  the  occupancy  of  the  house  by  the  present 
family.  The  high-pointed  ceilings,  formed  by  the 
sharply  sloping  roof, — the  wide  windows  reaching  to 
the  floor  and  curtained  with  snowy  muslin,  gave  these 
rooms  a  unique  charm.  In  each  one  was  a  hanging 
lamp,  a  prettily  carved  table,  a  chest  of  drawers  and 
other  dainty  belongings.  The  governess  was  a  woman 
of  few  words — but  observant. 

"I  thank  you  and  your  sister,  Mrs.  Andrews,  and  I 
am  grateful  to  God,"  was  the  reply  of  Miss  Boling, — 
when  asked,  "If  she  was  pleased  with  her  new  home," 
she  answered  that  it  was  rightly  called  a  home;  the 
first  deserving  the  name  she  had  been  blessed  with 
since  her  childhood. 

"I  will  show  my  gratitude  by  doing  my  duty.  I  have 
been  with  the  family  long  enough  to  be  certain  that 
I  am  not  experimenting;  and  if  the  present  conditions 
could  last  always,  I  would  never  leave  them ;  but  that 
their  greatest  sorrow  is  nearby  is  a  plain  fact.  So 
plain  as  to  leave  no  room  for  hope.  I  suppose  you 
know  I  refer  to  Mrs.  Bathurst's  health?" 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  asked  Miss  Sanford.  "She 
does  not  seem  so  very  ill.  You  believe  her  condition 
to  be  very  serious  then?" 

"She  is  quiet:  she  does  not  complain;  but  she  is 
sensibly  aware  of  her  danger.  She  will  be  missed; 
one  who  knows  nothing  of  her  home  life  can  not 
imagine  how  much  she  will  be  missed ;  she  is  the  main 
spring  in  the  machine  which  governs  a  family  of  near 
sixty  persons.  How  smoothly  it  works  must  be  seen 
at  short  range  to  be  understood." 

"I  had  an  idea  that  Mr.  Bathurst  was  the  ruling 
power  in  that  household." 

"He  thinks  so  himself;  no  one  has  ever  told  him 
otherwise  and  he  has  never  found  it  out.  When  it 


108 ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

comes  to  living  without  her,  Basil  will  get  along.  It 
will  be  doubtful  of  course  about  Felicia  and  Kaspar, 
but  with  her  will  go  all  that  is  best  in  the  life  of  their 
father.  He  may  or  may  not  give  up." 

"Are  you  sure  you  quite  understand  'Felix?  To  my 
mind  she  seems  to  be  better  formed  to  battle  with  the 
world  than  her  brother,  or  even  her  mother.  It  is 
often  the  case  that  the  character  of  a  girl  is  pretty 
well  developed  at  the  age  of  fifteen  years." 

"You  may  be  right;  for  I  must  confess  that  there 
is  a  reticence  about  her  which  keeps  one  outside  of 
certain  lines — a  peculiarity  growing  out  of  the  long 
continued  habit  of  concealing  from  her  mother  any 
thing  that  might  distress  or  annoy — much  that  is  dis 
turbing  in  the  household  management  never  getting 
beyond  Candace;  that  is  all  very  well;  but  Basil  is 
often  overbearing — teasing  and  hectoring  after  the 
manner  of  big  brothers ;  this  she  puts  up  with  without 
change  of  countenance  even  when  it  comes  in  a  shape 
which  might  better  be  met  with  corporal  punishment. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  this  of  Basil,  for  he  is  uniformly 
polite  to  me;  even  affectionate — his  manner  being  al 
ways  like  that  of  a  son  to  his  mother.  I  am  glad  to 
know  that  I  have  already  acquired  a  happy  influence 
over  them  all.  Felicia  will  be  very  susceptible  to 
masculine  influence — not  will  be — but  is.  She  will 
leave  any  agreeable  employment  to  wait  upon  her 
father,  Basil,  or  Kaspar;  and  although  she  is  equally 
loving  and  obedient  to  her  mother  and  me,  she  is 
evidently  impressed  with  the  superiority  of  the 
stronger  sex." 

"Elinor  thinks  she  will  be — or  could  be  a  famous 
belle,  if  she  lived  in  an  older  country  or  large  city 
whose  inhabitants  recognize  the  existence  of  this  class 
of  human  beings." 

"I  know  little  of  belles,  but  I  do  not  think  she  would 
ever  care  to  be  that ;  and  as  to  beaux,  she  hardly  knows 
the  meaning  of  the  word." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  109 

Shortly  after  Miss  Boling's  installment  as  governess 
in  the  Bathurst  family,  there  came  a  pressing  need  of 
various  small  articles  for  household  use,  such  as  gar 
den  seeds,  needles  and  pins,  thread  and  fish-hooks. 
The  latter  loudly  called  for.  So  great  had  been  the 
demand  by  parties  fishing  on  both  sides  of  the  river, 
that  none  were  to  be  had  at  Brown's,  Casa  de  Campo, 
or  Sennefeldt. 

''You'll  have  to  go  to  K 's  Springs,  or  maybe 

clearn  down  to  El  Correo  'way  below.  And  odds  ag'in 
you,  ef  you  git'  em  there,"  said  Basil,  repeating  ver 
batim  what  the  man  at  Casa  de  Campo  had  told  him. 

"Six  miles!  We  might  as  well  go  on  to  Seguin  at 
once,  Felix.  It's  eight  miles  to  the  Springs  since  the 
Finlay  pasture  was  fenced.  If  the  gates  are  open,  it 
will  be  nearer." 

"Jump  over  the  fence  if  the  gates  are  locked," 
said  Basil.  "I  don't  think  you  can  get  through  that 
pasture  unless  you  take  down  the  fence  or  jump  it; 
for  there  were  no  gates  on  this  end,  when  father  and 
I  came  through  there  last  week.  If  you  go  through, 
it's  only  five  miles  and  a  half  as  the  crow  flies.  No 
matter  what  others  may  tell  you." 

"Basil  is  always  right,  no  matter  what  others  may 
tell  you,"  said  Miss  Boling. 

"Miss  Euphemia,  you  don't  like  me;  you  are  always 
finding  fault  with  me.  I  do  not  deserve  it." 

"Come  along,  Felix,  I  don't  care  how  far  it  is.  We've 
never  been  there  and  we  ought  to  go.  There  are  houses 
all  along  the  way,  and  we  can't  get  lost." 

"Git  lost!  Don't  you  do  dat,  chillun.  Stay  close  to 
de  fences  an'  keep  yo'  eye  on  de  way  de  rivah  runs; 
an'  when  you  comes  to  de  ole  Ten  -pin  Alley,  'cross 
ovah — for  dat  big  red  house  is  Mr.  Parchman's  sto'. 
An'  dah's  whah  you  gits  de  fish-hooks;  be  sho'  you 
gits  de  right  kind.  Is  you  got  you  lunch,  Daisy?" 

"Yes,  and  my  hawse's  lunch  too,  tied  to  my  saddle 
here,"  patting  a  little  wallet  strapped  to  the  back  of 


110  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

his  saddle.  We'll  stop  in  the  shade  somewhere  when 
it  gets  too  hot,  and  eat  it." 

"If  you  sees  any  Injuns,  let  dem  hawses  out  at  dey 
bes',  an'  dey  ain't  nuthin  on  legs  dat  can  ketch  up  wid 
you,"  said  Polydore. 

"So.  Just  like  this,  Uncle  Polly.  And  Daisy,  tip 
ping  his  horse's  flanks  with  his  heels — both  ponies 
bounded  off  with  one  accord  and  were  soon  out  of 
sight. 

Mr.  Parchman  came  out  to  the  block  and  helped 
Felix  down.  Then  proceeding  to  tie  Max  to  the  rack 
was  interrupted  by  Kaspar. 

"Give  him  to  me,'"  said  Rasper.  "The  sun  is  too 
hot  there." 

He  lead  them  both  to  the  shade  of  a  tree.  Drawing 
their  heads  in  line  and  throwing  the  reins  over  the 
saddle  horns,  he  pulled  them  together  in  the  rear  by 
their  tails  and  left  them. 

"Good  God!  Will  they  stand  that-a-way?"  Mr. 
Parchman  had  a  loud  voice. 

"Yes,  they'll  stand." 

"Well,  well,  well !  That  beats  my  time  and  money — * 
if  it  don't  you  may  shoot  me.  W'y  they're  a  match! 
God  bless  their  little  souls,  what  a  team  they'd  make 
fer  fast  and  go.  What's  ther  names?  What's  all  yer 
names?"  looking  at  Felix.  Kaspar,  manlike,  answered 
for  her. 

"Daisy  and  Felix  are  ours.  Max  and  Echo  are 
theirs." 

"Parchman  is  mine.     Now  we  know  one  another." 

"Of  course  you  are  Felix?" 

"No,  that's  my  sister — I'm  Daisy." 

Mr.  Parchman  roared.  "You've  got  them  names 
mixed.  Hasn't  he,  young  lady?" 

"His  real  name  is  Kaspar,  and  mine  is  Felicia,"  said 
she  with  dignity. 

"Now  you've  got  everything  but  the  fish-hooks  and 
sewing  silk,"  said  the  store-keeper,  marking  the  articles 
on  the  list  with  his  pencil. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  111 

"The  very  things  we  wanted  the  most.  What  will 
we  do,  Felix  ?  Uncle  Polly  does  want  those  little  bait- 
hooks." 

"Now  if  you  don't  mind  riding  a  bit  further  down 
the  river  to  the  old  crossing  where  the  stagestand  is 
at  El  Correo,  hardly  a  mile  from  here,  Mr.  Houghton 
&  Co.  has  everything  in  that  line — even  to  seines  and 
nets." 

"The  river  makes  a  big  loop,  and  even  if  you  go  up 
on  this  side,  you'll  lose  no  time.  It's  two  miles  nearer 
if  you  cross  at  the  ferry." 

"Let's  go,  Felix — we  will  come  back  this  way,  stop, 
eat  our  lunch  and  rest." 

"No,  that  won't  do ;  there's  no  road  leading  directly 
from  here  to  any  crossing  up  the  river.  If  you  only 
wanted  to  go  home,  there's  a  trail  that  leads  into  the 
main  road.  After  you  leave  El  Correo,  the  best  place 
to  eat  is  at  the  Chain  Pump ;  you'll  see  it  a  little  to  the 
right  of  the  road  just  after  you  cross  the  Dead  Man's 
Hollow,  where  so — " 

"Dead  Man's  Hollow!"  said  (Felix,  in  a  startled  voice. 

"Dead  Man's  Hollow?  What  does  it  mean?"  asked 
Kaspar. 

"You  needn't  be  skeered,  he  won't  be  there;  the 
big  jagged  rock  that  marks  his  resting  place,  is  fifty 
yards  from  the  road,  and  is  hid  from  sight  by  a 
chaparral  of  cacti  and  catclaw." 

"Is  it  a  dark  place?" 

"No,  Miss  Felix;  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing 
like  they  do  every  where  else." 

"Goodbye,  Mr.  Parchman,  we'll  eat  at  the  Chain 
Pump." 


They  had  reached  the  place.  All  along  the  road  on 
both  sides,  were  empty  Mexican  carts.  They  had  just 
unloaded.  The  oxen,  uncoupled,  were  browsing  upon 
the  coarse  sedge-grass.  The  teamsters,  almost  to  a 
man,  were  asleep  on  bright  blankets  spread  upon  the 
ground.  A  few  women — the  customary  camp-follow- 


112  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

ers — and  several  children,  were  preparing  the  noon 
meal.  All  were  Mexicans.  Many  funny  little  dogs 
barked  at  and  ran  after  them.  It  was  like  a  Gypsy 
camp. 

They  passed  the  stage-stand,  a  tavern  built  in  the 
usual  fort-like  fashion,  with  a  row  of  jacals  and 
stables ;  all  inclosed  by  a  wall  of  heavy  pickets.  A  little 
way  off  was  the  store,  much  the  largest  they  had  yet 
seen.  Built  of  wood  and  stone  and  backing  on  the 
river. 

This  was  the  old  Victoria  crossing — now  known  as 
El  Correo.  Although  there  was  life  enough  at  the 
tavern,  where  there  were  many  loungers  on  the  wide 
gallery,  which  ran  along  two  sides  of  it,  there  was  ap 
parently  no  one  here;  although  more  than  the  space 
of  an  acre,  about  the  entrance  was  blocked  by  unloaded 
freight  which  had  evidently  been  brought  there  by  the 
now  empty  carts ;  some  of  which  stood  near.  The  doors 
and  windows  were  open. 

Leaving  their  horses  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
wide  roadway,  the  children  had  reached  for  the  door, 
and  now  stood  looking  up  and  down  the  length  of  the 
store.  As  outside,  it  was  all  confusion — the  counters 
piled  to  the  ceiling  with  sacks  of  corn,  coffee,  salt  and 
grain;  barrels  and  boxes  stood  on  the  floor.  The  de 
pleted  shelves  showed  little  of  their  former  contents. 

"This  place  looks  like  a  commissariat,"  said  Felix. 
"Those  bales  of  blankets  have  the  government  stamp 
on  them.  It  can't  be  the  place  Mr.  Parchman  meant. 
I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  go,  Daisy." 

There  was  a  chair  being  moved — the  rustling  of 
paper  at  a  desk,  the  high  back  of  which  was  turned 
towards  them.  A  young  man  came  from  behind  it. 

"Do  you  want  to  buy  anything?"  he  asked,  staring 
at  Felicia. 

"Do  you  keep  needles  and  sewing  silk?" 

"And  fishing-tackle?"  put  in  Kaspar. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  113 

"I  don't  know — I've  just  come.  Fish-hooks?  1 
think  so." 

"Are  you  Mr.  Houghton?"  asked  Kaspar. 

"No — Berenger." 

Another  man  came  from  behind  some  boxes,  with  a 
pen  behind  his  ear. 

"Larry,  are  there  any — ?  What  was  it  you  said — 
you  wanted?" 

"Needles  and  sewing-silk." 

"Yes,  I  have  them,"  said  Houghton,  moving  up  to 
a  dry-goods  counter. 

As  if  spell-bound,  Felix  still  stood  before  the  first 
young  man  apparently  not  seeing  that  Houghton  had 
come  to  wait  upon  her.  At  last  as  she  did  not  go, 
Berenger  said  with  a  little  laugh : — 

"Well — ?  I  don't  know  where  they  are — the  need 
les — go  to  the  other  man — at  the  counter." 

As  she  left  him,  the  young  man  exchanged  glances 
and  Berenger,  with  a  laughing  grin  and  quick  little 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  was  going  back  to  the  desk, 
when  Houghton  called  to  him. 

"Archie,  you  know  where  the  fishing-tackle  is,  won't 
you  give  this  little  boy  what  he  calls  for." 

He  came  back  at  once,  and  went  to  some  shelves  on 
the  opposite  side,  Daisy  following.  He  too  had  been 
gazing ;  entranced  by  the  pretty  face,  as  had  all  others 
when  seeing  it  for  the  first  time.  Felix,  with  uncon 
scious  freedom,  again  began  her  scrutiny.  Houghton 
was  having  a  prolonged  search  for  the  articles  wanted. 
She  had  never  been  so  charmed  with  any  one.  She 
especially  noticed  his  eyes.  She  had  seen  eyes  like 
them.  Where?  Whose?  Trying  to  recall — she  had 
no  idea  that  she  might  be  acting  strangely  or  unbecom 
ingly. 

"Will  you  look  at  these?"  asked  Houghton. 

"Yes,  this  is  the  kind.  Let  me  have  a  half  dozen 
papers.  Six  to  ten  assorted  numbers." 

"And  the  sewing  silk — will  you  look  at  it?" 


114  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"The  silk.  The  coarsest  and  strongest  button-hole 
twist.  A  dozen  skeins."  She  stooped  to  examine  the 
thread.  When  she  again  raised  her  head  Kaspar  was 
gone,  and  Berenger — his  hands  loosely  clasped  and 
resting  on  the  counter  before  him — was  smiling  at 
her.  What — ?  But  she  had  no  time  for  further 
thought.  Why,  what  was  he  doing?  What  did  he 
mean?  Was  it  a  wink?  She  looked  at  him  sharply — 
contracting  her  forehead  until  her  eyebrows  nearly 
met.  It  was  repeated — there  was  no  doubt  about  it. 
She  immediately  turned  her  back.  Houghton  was 
handing  her  a  little  package.  She  took  it  and  abruptly 
left  the  building  by  a  side  door. 

Some  boys  passing  near  the  platform  scales,  beg 
ged  to  be  weighed ;  the  men  beginning  to  put  on  freight, 
refused,  saying  it  would  take  too  much  time.  Berenger 
coming  to  the  rescue  and  saying  it  would  take  but  a 
minute  or  two,  called  to  the  little  fellows  and  proceeded 
to  do  the  weighing  himself. 

"Come  along,  boys;  and  you  too — what  is  your 
name?" 

"Kaspar  Darius — "  breaking  off  and  calling  to  his 
sister : — 

"Oh  come,  Felix:     Come  and  be  weighed!" 
Felix  was  running  wildly  down  to  the  place  where 
they  had  left  their  horses. 

"What  is  your  sister's  name,  Kaspar?" 
"Felix  Bathurst." 

"Come  back,  Mr.  Felix,  and  be  weighed." 
Houghton,  who  had  gone  with  the  crowd  to  the  front, 
was  about  to  follow  her,  when  Berenger,  saying  some 
thing  in  Spanish  to  the  Mexicans,  called  out  to  him : — 
"Come  back,  Larry,— I'll  do  that." 

"When  he  reached  her,  all  emotion  conquered,  she 
had  untied  the  horse  and  hung  the  little  silken,  Mexi 
can  tie-rope  on  the  horn  of  her  saddle,  and  was  lead 
ing  him  to  the  block  some  distance  away. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE 115 

"Don't  go  there.  Stop  and  let  me  put  you  up  here !" 
Taking  the  reins  from  her  and  throwing  them  over 
his  arm,  he  held  out  his  hand. 

There  was  no  confusion  in  the  glance  which  met  his, 
squarely ;  neither  was  there  anything  to  read  in  it ;  but 
the  smile  left  his  lips  and  laughing  eyes,  for  he  had 
seen  his  mistake  at  the  first — even  before  she  had 
turned  her  back  on  him  in  the  store. 

"I  am  going  to  the  block,"  she  said  quietly. 

"No,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  will  put  you  up  here." 

She  passed  him  as  if  not  hearing;  stepped  lightly 
on  the  block  and  waited.  Suspecting,  he  did  not  know 
what — Houghton  had  followed,  and  when  Berenger 
told  him  to  go  back  that  he  was  afraid  he  had  offended 
the  young  lady  and  wished  to  make  amends,  his  only 
reply  was  a  doubtful,  questioning  look  as  he  passed 
him  and  joined  Felicia ;  standing  near,  while  his  friend, 
throwing  the  reins  over  the  outer  horn  of  the  saddle 
and  catching  them  again  near  the  bit  put  the  horse 
in  place;  but  when  Felix  after  seating  herself,  took 
them  up,  he  still  held  them  firmly.  The  horse  pranced 
in  his  effort  to  go. 

"I  want  to  give  you  your  stirrup." 

"I  have  it.    Let  go !"  her  eyes  flashing. 

"I'm  sure  you  have  not,"  he  laughed. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?  Let  go!"  bringing  out 
the  words  in  a  clear,  sweet  voice,  though  vibrant  with 
anger  and  determination,  and  raising  her  riding  whip. 
He  let  go.  Giving  her  horse  a  cut  with  the  whip,  to 
which  he  responded  in  a  way  that  nearly  unseated  her, 
they  were  off  and  away. 

"By  Jove!  How  she  rides!  And  no  goodbye  to 
anybody,"  said  Berenger,  looking  after  the  flying, 
graceful  figures  of  horse  and  rider. 

"How  pretty  she  is — the  little  spitfire!  She  didn't 
have  her  stirrup — she  doesn't  need  a  block,  and  she 
runs  like  a  deer.  She  jumped  from  her  saddle  like 
the  boy,  and  beat  him  to  the  house.  I  saw  them  by 
way  of  the  window." 


116  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"But  you  did  something.  What  was  it?  She  was 
in  an  ace  of  crying." 

"Crying!  She  was  in  an  ace  of  lashing  me  with  her 
whip!  Or  running  her  horse  over  me  if  I  hadn't  let 
go."  He  looked  down  for  a  minute  or  two  as  if  think 
ing — then  flushing,  he  looked  up  at  Houghton,  say 
ing  half  angrily : — 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?  What  do  you  think  I 
did?" 

"Something  to  be  ashamed  of — I  don't  know  what. 
Tell  me  what  you  did,  Archie." 

"A  little  fun.  I  took  her  to  be  younger ;  it  was  like 
teasing  a  pretty  child,  but  nothing  to  rouse  such  a 
temper  as  that." 

"Well  whatever  it  was,  I  am  blamed  sorry  it  hap 
pened  here,"  said  Larry,  with  heat. 

"So  am  I,  and  it  will  not  happen  again.  With  her 
habit  caught  up  short,  and  running,  she  looked  like  a 
child.  Of  course  I'm  sorry,  but  she's  a  vixen  for  all 
"that." 


"Felix  was  recalled  to  herself  by  remembering  that 
she  had  left  Daisy  behind.  She  drew  up  and  looked 
back.  He  was  coming  at  a  gallop ;  she  would  wait  for 
him: — thinking  like  a  child,  that  she  would  tell  him 
what  had  happened.  A  second  thought  forbade  this. 
She  blushed  hotly — and  breathed  for  a  few  moments 
with  difficulty.  She  would  tell  nobody  of  the  shame 
ful  thing. 

As  the  spirited  young  horses  were  given  to  such  un 
expected  runs  especially  when  headed  for  home,  Kas- 
par  thought  nothing  of  his  sister's  abrupt  flight,  and 
began  telling  of  what  the  Mexicans  had  said  about 
"the  Chain  Pump."  "They  would  camp  there  to-night, 
although  it  was  a  fearful  place — so  many  murders  and 
fights ;  'misterioso' — this  well — f or  none  of  them  knew 
how  it  came  to  be  there.  All  by  itself — and  it  was 
there  before  the  Americanos  came.  But  they  had  their 
pistolas  and  cuchillons — and  there  were  seventy  of 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  117 

them,  all  told.  Three  trains,  with  twenty  men  to  each 
train.  Then  there  were  the  train-masters  on  horse 
back  and  the  women  and  children.  Oh,  no,  they  were 
not  afraid  of  Injuns,  they  could  make  a  good  fight 
against  a  hundred : — and  they  were  quite  sure  that  the 
savages  would  never  come  in  such  numbers.  But — 
for  ghosts?  Espiritu  maligno!  It  is  their  watering 
place!" 

"They  come  from  Powderhorn,  and  are  going  to  San 
Antonio  to  load  up  again  with  wool,  hides,  and  pecans. 
They're  all  working  for  Mr.  Berenger  and  another 
man,  who  have  a  contract  for  Government  supplies. 
For  awhile  this  store  would  be  used  for  a  warehouse; 
and  that  was  why  Berenger  &  Houghton  were  selling 
out.  Mr.  Berenger  owns  the  building  and  has  the  big 
gest  interest  in  it,  but  he's  hardly  ever  there,  and  Mr. 
Houghton  runs  it.  The  Mexicans  told  me  and  the 
other  boys,  that  sometimes  they  go  'way  up  to  Fort 
Duncan  at  Eagle  Pass  and  further  on  to  'Fort  Bliss  at 
El  Paso ;  one  man  said  his  train  had  been  to  Santa  Fe, 
New  Mexico.  These  forts  are  to  keep  the  Injuns  out. 
The  Mexicans  say  there  are  others;  Fort  Inge  at 
Uvalde,  and  Fort  Ewell  and  one  or  two  more  on  the 
Nueces.  They've  been  to  all  of  them  and  sometimes 
meet  long  Government  trains,  with  great  big  wagons 
and  mules,  hauling  about  three  times  as  much  as  they 
could  put  on  one  of  their  carretas." 

They  had  come  over  half  way,  and  were  nearing  the 
well.  Listening  to  the  lively  gossip  of  her  little  broth 
er,  Felix  had  recovered  from  the  disturbing  effect  of 
her  awkward  and  unwelcome  experience — and  forget- 
ing  it  for  a  time,  they  had  ridden  leisurely — talking 
as  usual  of  whatever  came  uppermost. 

"This  must  be  "the  Dead  Man's  Hollow,"  she  said. 
"If  it  should  be,  we  have  come  a  little  over  four  miles." 

"And  there  is  'the  Chain  Pump'  to  the  left,"  and 
looking  up  the  road,  he  added : — 


118  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"We  will  not  be  alone,  for  there  is  a  carriage  full  of 
people;  of  course  they'll  stop  to  get  water." 

It  was  Laura  Houghton,  her  sister  and  Miss  Ridley. 
One  of  the  younger  Houghton  brothers,  a  boy  of  six 
teen,  was  driving.  They  turned  out  to  the  well. 

"How  good  to  find  you  here,  Felix.  Where  have  you 
children  been?" 

"At  El  Correo." 

"To  buy  fish-hooks,"  said  Kaspar. 

"Give  me  one,  Daisy." 

"Of  course, — several,  I  have  dozens,"  diving  into 
his  pocket,  he  gave  her  the  package. 

"We  are  going  to  eat  here,  Laura;  won't  you  join 
us?" 

"We  are  going  to  eat  here.  Won't  you  join  ws?  We 
have  enough  in  the  carriage  for  a  troop  of  cavalry : — 
otherwise  it  wouldn't  do,  for  we  are  hungry,  and  there 
are  four  mouths  to  feed.  I'm  so  glad  you  are  here; 
we  are  going  below;  it's  one  o'clock — and  past;  and 
we  intend  to  stay  until  it's  cooler.  We're  going  below 
to  stop  over  night  with  the  Butlers." 

All  hands  were  soon  busy,  setting  forth  the  luncheon, 
which  was  spread  out  in  the  motte  close  by.  The  well 
itself  was  some  distance  from  this  motte,  but  was  pro 
tected  from  the  heat  of  the  sun  by  a  curious  device — 
a  shed,  formed  by  two  lopped  trees  on  one  side  and 
the  trunks  of  two  others  set  in  the  ground  on  the 
other ;  close,  lying  on  top,  were  long  poles  for  the  roof. 
Upon  this  had  been  thrown  the  earth  from  a  huge 
ant-bed.  This  had  almost  the  hardness  of  cement,  and 
yet  was  sufficiently  fertile  for  vegetable  growth;  as 
it  was  thickly  grown  with  grass  and  cacti.  It  was 
of  such  heighth  that  a  tall  man  could  walk  under  it 
without  taking  off  his  hat.  It  was  believed  to  have 
been  the  site  of  some  long  deserted  Mission.  For  in 
the  motte,  and  in  the  dense  chaparral  surrounding  the 
little  open  space  around  it,  had  been  found  piles  of 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  119 

stones,  which,  when  examined  after  being  cleansed 
of  earth  and  mold,  showed  signs  of  chipping  and  shap 
ing.  Indeed  among  certain  curiosities  found  here  was 
an  Indian  stone-adz.  Be  that  as  it  may,  even  those 
unacquainted  with  any  part  of  its  history,  found  it 
uncanny  after  sun-down.  Some  of  the  stones  most 
suitable  had  been  dragged  from  their  foundations  by 
soldiers  and  other  campers  and  placed  singly  and  in 
numbers  where  they  would  serve  for  seats.  The  most 
inviting  of  these  were  now  occupied  by  the  party  in 
possession.  The  luncheon  being  disposed  of,  they  were 
seated  in  a  circle  chatting  and  laughing  merrily  when 
Kaspar,  whose  eyesight  was  remarkable,  interrupted 
them.  He  had  been  looking  far  away  up  the  hill,  if 
the  long  slow-sloping  elevation  could  be  called  a  hill. 
He  was  now  bending  forward,  intently  gazing. 

"What  was  it  Daisy?"  asked  Laura.  "What  did, 
or  do  you  see?" 

"Nothing  now,  but  that  big  stone  on  top  of  the  hill. 
I  thought  I  saw  something  or  somebody  jump  off  it." 
All  of  them  stared  in  that  direction. 

"That  is  the  gravestone  of  the  poor  man  whose 
murder  gave  name  to  this  little  valley." 

"It  is  not  what  I  imagined  it  to  be.  I  thought  it 
would  be  like  a  ravine,"  said  Felix.  "A  dark  ravine." 

"See!  There  it  is  again!"  exclaimed  Daisy,  ex 
citedly.  He  sprang  up  and  waved  his  handkerchief  to 
the  figure,  which  went  down  as  before. 

"It  was  a  darky  of  some  kind,  a  nigger  or  a  Mexi 
can,"  said  George  Ridley. 

"It  is  perhaps  some  one  hunting  stock,  and  wanting 
to  get  on  a  high  point  for  the  sake  of  a  wide  outlook," 
said  Miss  Ridley,  carelessly,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet, 
saying  that  it  was  near  four  o'clock  and  they  ought  to 
be  going  as  they  must  stop  at  the  postoffice  at  El 
Correo. 


120  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"It's  too  early — it's  just  half  after  three,"  said 
Laura  Houghton,  glancing  at  her  watch.  "I  hope  Larry 
will  be  there — I  am  compelled  to  see  him.  How  many 
men  were  in  the  store  to-day,  Felix?  You  don't  know 
Larry,  do  you?" 

"There  were  two  men — one  was  your  brother,  the 
other,  I  heard  called  Berenger." 

"Then  he  has  come  back.  You  must  tell  him  what 
father  said  about  the  carpenters,  George — or  what  will 
be  just  as  well,  I  will." 

"Who  is  he,  Laura?  He  doesn't  look  like  an  Ameri 
can." 

"He  is  not; — he  is  an  Englishman; — and  comes  from 
one  of  the  English  families  living  in  the  vicinity  of 
New  Orleans.  He  was  born  in  London.  His  name 
is  Archibald — " 

"We  know  his  name,"  said  Daisy.  "It  is  Mr.  Ber 
enger." 

"Yes,  Archie  Berenger.  He  is  sometimes  called — 
other  names — and  is  a  much  talked  about  young  man." 

"That  is  owing  in  a  measure,  to  the  quality  of  his 
self-esteem.  He  thinks  he  was  born  of  better  grade, 
and  placed  on  a  higher  plane  than  other  folks,  excepting 
perhaps  the  fewest  possible  number, — and  these  must 
be  of  his  own  caste  and  kind,"  said  Miss  Ridley. 

"I  never  thought  of  him  in  that  way: — or  in  fact 
in  any  but  a  business  way.  Larry  as  you  know,  had 
an  interest  in  the  store,  and  father  furnished  him 
with  the  money  to  start  with; — he  has  done  well,  and 
Daddie  attributes  his  success  mainly  to  Mr.  Berenger's 
superior  management.  I  feel  friendly  towards  him 
because  Larry  likes  him." 

"I  have  only  a  slight  acquaintance  with  him;  and 
judge  by  what  I've  heard  from  others.  Wasn't  he 
sent  there  to  serve  out  a  term  of  probation?" 

"To  give  him  a  chance  to  prove  his  fitness  for  matri 
mony.  Oh,  yes.  He  has  been  too  gay.  But  he  has 
sown  his  wild  oats." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  121 

"The  wildest  kind  of  oats,  I  believe.  If  only  he  has 
done  with  it." 

"You  don't  like  him ;  but  I  know  for  a  fact  that  much 
has  been  said  which  is  not  true,  and  what  is  true  has 
been  exaggerated." 

"What  has  been  said?"  asked  Felix,  thinking  that 
he  might  be  capable  of  anything,  but  at  the  same  time 
feeling  greatly  interested  in  the  discussion. 

"The  principal  things  are,  that  he  was  expelled  from 
the  State  University  of  Louisiana,  for  fighting,  and 
afterwards  ran  away  from  Oxford,  England,  going  to 
sea  as  a  sailor  and  traveling  about  the  world  for  a 
year  or  two ;  and  later,  spending  a  great  deal  of  money 
in  many  objectionable  ways;  the  money  being  given 
him  by  his  father,  who  is  a  rich  man — a  merchant  on 
a  large  scale,  and  a  ship-owner;  but  better  than  all, 
a  kind  father.  Now  that  he  has  proved  himself  to  be 
worthy,  he  is  to  be  married  to  a  young  lady  in  Canada, 
who  is  English  like  himself.  You  will  pass  his  place 
this  evening.  The  big  pasture  and  the  land  adjoining 
ours  on  the  river,  will  also  be  his.  On  the  left  is  the 
cottage  in  which  the  young  couple  will  live.  It  is  of 
red  sandstone — beautifully  built — and  will  soon  be 
finished.  They  are  of  the  same  age,  twenty-two  or 
three,  and  betrothed  in  childhood  by  their  parents.  I 
am  glad  they  are  coming  to  live  here;  I  like  Mr. 
Berenger." 

Felicia  was  certain  that  she,  herself,  could  never 
either  like  or  respect  him.  It  had  grown  cooler  and 
it  was  time  to  go. 


122  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    RAID. 

Not  dreaming  of  danger,  the  children  hurried  home 
ward.  The  ponies  were  trotting  along  briskly.  Daisy, 
an  inveterate  gossip,  was  retailing  what  he  had  learned 
from  George  Ridley  at  the  well.  They  had  come  to  a 
prairie  through  which  the  wide  road  ran  for  a  couple 
of  miles.  Through  the  sparse  timber  they  could  see 
the  rich  coloring  of  the  trees  that  marked  the  far  away 
bend  in  the  river ;  one  point  of  which  was  at  El  Correo, 
the  other  at  the  ferry,  one  mile  below  their  home  on 
the  other  side.  To  their  left  the  country  lay  as  a  map 
before  them.  As  far  as  the  field  of  vision  went,  could 
be  seen  scattered  herds  of  cattle;  some  of  them  quite 
near  the  road.  When  they  were  a  little  more  than  a 
mile  from  the  ferry,  looking  to  northwest,  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  off,  they  saw  a  great  commotion 
among  the  cattle;  they  seemed  to  be  herding  them 
selves  into  a  group. 

"There's  something  going  on  in  that  little  valley 
on  the  other  side;  I  bet  the  cow-boys  are  over  there, 
but  the  sedge-grass  is  so  high  it  hides  them,"  said 
Daisy.  They  passed  on  without  further  notice. 

All  at  once  the  dozen  or  more  cattle  near  them,  lifted 
up  their  tails — sniffed  loudly,  and  began  to  run. 

A  half -backward  glance  showed  them  three  horse 
men — one  in  advance  of  the  others.  They  were  on  the 
gallop.  Another  swift  glance — sweeping  the  hills — 
revealed  an  indefinite  number  of  horses,  rapidly  driven 
by  mounted  men.  The  cattle  were  now  madly  rushing 
in  every  direction. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  123 

"My  God !  Daisy,  they're  Indians,  and  they're  com 
ing  this  way !  Stick  to  your  horse  and  run !  Keep  near 
me  and  stay  in  the  road — we'll  outrun  them !" 

"Their  horses,  already  wildly  restive,  flew  over  the 
ground.  Deceived  at  first  by  the  comparatively  slow 
approach  of  the  Indians,  they  had  taken  them  for  cow- 
hunters,  and  let  them  come  too  near.  The  foremost 
of  them  on  an  American  horse,  was  making  good  time. 
The  others  were  whipping: — the  tired  mustangs  un 
able  to  do  more  than  keep  up  a  slow  gallop. 

Would  they  cut  across?  One  of  them  did — coming 

a  little  nearer Quick  as  a  flash  of  lightning,  they 

both  saw  that  but  one  was  to  be  feared — the  one  on 
the  big  horse  had  begun  to  run. 

The  Indian  seeing  the  rapidly  increasing  speed  of 
their  horses,  furiously  kicked  his  own  in  the  flanks — 
sending  the  evidently  unbroken  animal  off  at  an 
angle: — he  made  a  short  cut,  again  coming  nearer — 
running  parallel  with  them  though  several  lengths 
behind.  With  a  slip-knotted  rope  in  his  hand,  he 
quickly  made  a  noose  of  it — straightened  in  his  saddle 
and  hurled  it  at  Felix.  It  missed  her.  His  horse  turn 
ing  short,  ran  to  the  left  a  little  way — losing  time — a 
few  seconds,  only — but  giving  an  immense  advtantage 
to  the  children.  Again  he  approached.  Felix  called 
aloud : 

"Keep  to  the  road,  Daisy — we'll  get  away,"  then 
with  rigid,  pallid  lips  and  face — "don't  be  afraid!"  He 
fell  back  a  little.  Standing  in  his  stirrups  and 
whirling  the  rope  above  his  outlandish  head — with  the 
buzzing  roar  of  the  bullbat,  it  shot  out  taut  from  his 
hand — striking  the  back  of  her  head  with  the  force  of 
a  blow,  it  fell, — raking  Max's  hind-quarters  and  catch 
ing  onto  a  stump  on  the  roadside.  Both  little  horses 
leaped  high  in  the  air,  and  down  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  were 
off  again  with  a  speed  that  looked  like  flying. 

In  an  instant,  the  Indian  had  thrown  the  lasso  from 
the  horn  of  his  saddle  and  drawn  his  pistol;  but  the 
maddened  horse  had  dashed  to  the  left  into  the  hog- 


124  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

wallow  prairie ;  rudely  checked — he  reared,  and  letting 
down  his  forefeet  for  another  spring — landed  in  a 
deep,  wide  crevice — sinking  to  his  chest — the  Indian 
thrown  forward  into  a  patch  of  nettles  and  briers. 

There  was  the  noise  of  a  pistol  shot,  but  the  intended 
victims  were  out  of  sight  in  the  timber,  in  plain  view 
of  the  Ferry — though  Max  and  Echo,  warmed  to  their 
work,  were  still  running  unchecked,  the  children  not 
knowing  whether  they  were  still  being  pursued  or  not. 
They  had  turned  into  the  Ferry  road,  when  again  there 
was  commotion: — a  prolonged  shriek,  and  from  a  dis 
tance  up  the  highway  they  had  just  left,  came  the 
sound  of  many  hoof -beats — as  of  a  troop  of  cavalry  on 
a  sharp  trot.  Without  checking  their  speed  they 
craned  their  necks  to  see  the  cause,  when  something 
came  as  though  flying  at  them  out  of  the  bushes,  then 
running  down  the  road.  It  was  a  negro  riding  a 
mule, — with  several  arrows  in  his  back.  Kaspar  rec 
ognized  him  as  a  neighbor's  servant  and  made  a  move 
ment  to  stop.  He  saw  it,  and  cried  out: — 

"Fer  Lawd's  sake,  doan'  stop,  chillun!  Run!  Run 
to  de  ferry — quick! — Nebber  mind  me — I'm  home!" — 
he  screamed,  as  he  leaped  a  five-barred  panel  of  fence 
as  if  it  weren't  there,  and  disappeared  in  the  pasture. 

What  now?  With  backward  glances  of  lightning 
rapidity,  they  saw — not  the  enemy  they  expected — but 
men  in  blue  uniform  riding  down  the  road  they  had 
just  left — one  of  them  was  galloping  towards  them; 
they  went  back  to  meet  him ;  when  in  hearing  distance, 
he  called  out: — 

"What  were  you  running  from?  Have  you  seen 
the  Indians?  It's  a  bad  time  just  now  for  boys  and 
girls  to  be  on  this  side  of  the  Guadalupe.  Quick!  Tell 
me  what  you  know — as  we  ride — for  we're  after  them." 
He  had  turned  back  at  the  moment  of  meeting.  "Talk 
fast!" 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  125 

"We  saw  them — they  were  driving  horses  out  on  the 
hill  to  our  left — over  a  mile  back,"  said  Felix  hurriedly. 
"They  chased  us  and  one  of  them  tried  to  rope  me, 
and  just  now  a  negro  ran  past  with  arrows  in  his 
back—" 

"That's  all  I  want  to  know.  Go  home — and  be  quick 
about  it!"  said  the  soldier,  as  he  galloped  off  in  the 
direction  taken  by  his  men.  He  was  a  young  man,  and 
handsome — of  slight  build  and  perfect  form — whose 
every  word  and  motion  declared  him  a  soldier.  This 
was  Earl  Van  Dorn,  who,  having  been  brevetted  Cap 
tain  for  bravery  at  the  battle  of  Cuerro  Gordo,  Mexico, 
in  April,  1847,  was  a  month  later  in  the  same  year, 
made  Brevet-Major  for  conspicuous  and  gallant  con 
duct  at  Contreras  and  Cherubusco. 

"They'll  be  sure  to  fight,  won't  they,  'Felix,"  asked 
Daisy,  excitedly,  as  they  fled  along  to  the  ferry. 

"I  do  not  think  they  will ;  for  the  Indians  are  fresh 
ly  mounted  by  this  time  and  the  soldiers'  horses  are 
tired.  Didn't  you  see  how  tired  they  were." 

Company  F.  2nd  Reg.,  U.  S.  Cav. — in  command  of 
Capt.  Earle  Van  Dorn,  was. stationed  at  Bandera  Pass, 
an  encampment  rather  than  a  fort.  A  few  days  before, 
this,  as  well  as  other  companies  of  regulars  and  rang 
ers,  had  been  called  upon  to  check  the  Indian  depreda 
tions  now  growing  frequent  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Guadalupe  mountains.  The  Comanches  and  Lipans 
were  on  the  warpath — thieving  and  murdering  along 
the  Guadalupe,  Cibolo  and  Medina  rivers.  They  were 
reckoned  to  number  near  one  hundred  warriors,  but 
were  divided  into  squads  of  about  twenty  bucks,  be 
sides  the  few  who  usually  preceeded  them  as  lookouts 
and  spies. 

Both  soldiers  and  horses  were  jaded : — the  latter  less 
so  than  the  former — the  natives  giving  corn  when 
chance  offered — and  the  grass  was  good.  On  reaching 
the  place  at  which  Felix  and  Daisy  had  seen  the  herd 
of  horses,  not  one  could  be  seen  on  the  hills  beyond; 


126  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

but  in  a  little  stretch  of  hog-wallow  prairie,  there  was 
a  big-boned  horse  of  the  hunter  breed  limping  pain 
fully  around  as  he  fed  on  the  deep  mesquite  grass.  A 
trooper  rode  nearer,  to  look  at  the  Indian  saddle  and 
to  see  what  his  brand  might  be.  "We  won't  take  him 
along,"  he  called  out.  It  might  be  better  to  shoot  him ; 
I  believe  his  right  foreleg  is  broken  at  the  knee.' 

"We  haven't  time  to  fool  with  him — let  him  take 
his  chances,"  said  Capt.  Van  Dorn,  who  though  tired, 
covered  with  dust,  and  hungry,  was  eager  for  battle. 
As  the  man  whirled  round  to  join  his  companions,  he 
saw  the  dark  face  of  an  Indian,  with  small,  black  glit 
tering  eyes — malignant  as  those  of  a  snake,  gazing 
murderously  at  him  from  a  low  clump  of  brush  not 
ten  feet  away. 

Cautiously  advancing  a  little,  be  bent  over  the  bet 
ter  to  examine. 

"A — h"  he  drawled  out.    "You  would — would  you?" 

"Was  that  a  double  report?  Or  was  it  only  one?" 
asked  Capt.  Van  Dorn." 

"No  time  to  wait  for  orders,  Captain,"  said  the 
trooper,  wiping  his  smoking  pistol  and  replacing  it 
neatly  in  its  holster  at  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 
"Handy  thing — once  in  awhile." 

"They  did  not  overtake  the  Indians,  for  the  horses 
they  had  under  herd  when  seen  by  Felix  and  Daisy, 
were  mostly  thoroughbreds  from  neighboring  stock- 
farms.  They  had  then  and  there  mounted  these — 
turning  loose  their  wornout  mustangs.  They  had  been 
close  pressed  for  days — hence  their  boldness.  It  was 
near  three  or  four  days  before  they  reached  the  Nueces. 
They  were  intercepted  two  days  later — ambushed  at 
a  crossing  on  the  Nueces,  by  a  party  of  well-armed 
cow-boys,  who  knew  what  they  had  to  do,  and  how  to 
do  it.  Some  of  the  Indians  never  crossed,  and  almost 
all  the  horses  were  recovered.  Attacked  front  and 
rear,  they  lost  thirty-six  warriors. 


OR  THE;  INVISIBLE  ROUTE  127 

"I  have  come  for  a  description  of  your  encounter 
with  the  Comanches,"  said  Capt.  Van  Dorn,  a  day  or 
two  later,  "I  have  purposely  come  out  of  my  way  to 
hear  you  tell  it.  No  account  of  a  battle  is  so  reliable 
as  that  of  an  eye-witness,  Mrs.  Bathurst." 

"It  was  only  half  a  battle ;  on  our  side  it  was  all  re 
treat,"  said  Andrea,  smiling  as  she  looked  fondly  at 
Felicia.  "I  am  thankful  to  God  that  they  kept  their 
senses  about  them,  and  did  the  best  thing  under  the 
circumstances — which  was  keeping  to  the  road  and 
running." 

"It  was  a  masterly  retreat,  although  as  you  say — 
but  half  a  battle." 

Felix  gave  a  detailed  account,  adding  that  she  had 
expected  every  moment  to  be  shot,  and  hearing  the  first 
report,  was  surprised  that  it  was  not  repeated. 

"He  wanted  your  horses — if  he  fired  at  you  while 
running  so  fast,  your  horse  might  be  wounded.  He 
would  lariat  and  spear  both  you  and  your  brother — 
take  your  horses  and  go.  I  suppose  you  know  private 
Ellis  shot  him,  not  over  twenty  minutes  after  I  left  you, 
and  just  in  time  to  save  himself.  He  was  found  to  be 
hurt  by  a  fall,  as  also  was  the  horse  he  was  riding. 
The  shooting  of  the  negro  was  perhaps  the  work  of 
one  or  two  stragglers — and  very  likely  a  piece  of  sport 
ive  deviltry,  for  they  want  fast-going  horses  and  are 
not  apt  to  take  mules." 

"But  this  mule  was  fast-going — I  never  saw  any 
thing  jump  like  it  did — there  was  no  effort  at  all — 
he  was  running  in  long  leaps,  and  in  one  of  them,  he 
went  over  the  fence." 

Felix  was  not  intending  to  be  humorous,  but  the  ef 
fect  was  universal  laughter.  Polydore  and  Clipper, 
serving  wine  and  cake  from  the  sideboard  knowing 
their  manners,  rushed  madly  from  the  room  and  could 
be  seen  outside  bent  double  with  mirth. 


128  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Perhaps  he  descends  from  the  Syrian  wild  asses — 
a  breed  which  it  is  said  outruns  the  horse.  The  Span 
ish  Government  imported  Arabian  horses  into  Mexi 
co — then  why  not  this  kind  of  stock,"  said  Paul. 

"I  keep  a  journalistic  statement  of  all  the  facts  re 
lating  to  such  occurrences,  and  like  to  be  exact.  I 
will  take  that  down,"  said  Van  Dorn. 

"I  know  why  Uncle  Polly  an'  Clipper  laughed.  They 
were  thinking  of  Uncle  Nelse — they  think  it  was  fun 
ny — all  those  arrows  in  his  back — and  none  in  front. 
I  know  it  was  awful,  but  it  was  funny,"  explained 
Daisy. 

"Poor  old  man !  No  one  could  have  done  better,  and 
I'm  sure  he  had  his  wits  about  him,  for  he  thought 
of  our  danger  when  he  told  us  to  run  to  the  Ferry.  I, 
for  one,  can  find  nothing  to  laugh  at,"  said  Felix, 
reprovingly. 

"No,  it  was  another  masterly  retreat,"  said  Capt. 
Van  Dorn,  smiling  and  rising  to  go. 


The  Indian  raid  was  no  longer  a  chief  topic  of  con 
versation,  and  although  with  Felicia  it  would  always 
be  a  vivid  memory,  there  were  other  events  connected 
with  her  visit  to  El  Correo,  that  were  just  now  crowd 
ing  it  out  of  her  thoughts.  The  scene  in  the  commi- 
sariat  returned  to  her  consciousness  again  and  again, 
and  always  against  her  will. 

It  was  a  long  time  after,  before  she  was  able  to  trace 
the  cause  or  comprehend  the  nature  of  the  feeling, — 
the  depression  of  spirit  which  followed  the  meeting  of 
Berenger;  a  feeling  which  for  years  never  left  her 
when  remembering  it.  She  had  purposely  led  Miss 
Houghton  to  talk  about  him,  through  curiosity — not 
at  all  expecting  a  panegyric ;  forgetting  that  in  the  first 
moments  of  anger,  she  had  resolved  to  dismiss  him 
from  her  thoughts  as  one  unworthy  of  such  concern. 
Handsome,  certainly — good  to  look  at — but  without 
doubt,  ill-mannered  and  perhaps  immoral. 


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OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  129 

Then  reasoning  like  a  child,  and  against  an  inward 
protest,,  she  would  be  absorbed  in  conjecture  as  to  the 
righteousness  of  her  opinion  in  regard  to  his  morality. 
She  took  time  also  to  review  the  impression  received  on 
sight — in  a  flash  as  it  were — a  vision  of  light — whose 
beauties  were  indelibly  imprinted  upon  her  soul  for 
ever.  So  it  was.  She  remembered  every  detail  and 
now  made  a  mental  picture  of  it.  What  was  it  she  so 
liked?  In  what  was  he  different  from  other  men?  In 
everything.  In  the  easy  and  graceful  way  he  moved — 
the  air  of  immaculate  cleanliness  in  clothes  and  per 
son — the  entire  absence  of  any  blemish  or  any  kind  of 
flaw  in  the  strong,  young  shoulders  and  limbs — the 
strangely  fascinating  eyes — a  light  violet  grey — and 
the  exquisite  play  of  feature  when  talking  with  Daisy, 
just  before  he — she  blushed — covering  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

Hardly  fifteen  years  old,  but  gifted  with  an  almost 
precocious  intelligence  when  a  child,  she  acquired 
knowledge  with  no  strain  or  effort.  A  close  student, 
she  could  gain  more  in  one  hour  than  children  of  or 
dinary  capacity  might  accomplish  in  three.  To  read 
over  once  was  to  comprehend — and  the  knotty  point 
was  henceforth  a  part  of  her  memory  and  understand 
ing. 

Under  her  father's  supervision,  she  had  read  a  dozen 
or  more  classical  works — books,  by  well-known  authors, 
both  French  and  English: — among  them  were  roman 
ces,  in  which  were  portrayed  such  characters  as  Laura 
Houghton  described  as  belonging  to  Berenger.  Taking 
for  granted  what  the  phrase — "and  spending  too  much 
money  in  various  objectionable  ways" — meant,  when 
spoken  of  in  connection  with  a  wild  young  man,  she 
took  him  to  be  a  libertine.  She  thought  of  this  phrase 
now — and  again  grew  pale  with  anger. 

"Why  think  about  it  at  all! — I  will  not,"  she  ex 
claimed  aloud. 


130  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

But  she  did.  Self-poised,  truthful,  loving,  and 
brave — her  moral  nature  dominated  her  soul — her 
taste — her  reason  and  her  passions.  United  with 
health,  strength,  and  great  vitality  it  showed  in 
all  her  being ;  and  from  the  time  of  her  first  conscious 
ness  of  right  or  wrong,  had  aided  in  the  control  of  her 
obvious  faults  of  temper,  and  would  in  future  enable 
her  to  discover  and  control  whatever  might  lurk  be 
neath.  She  was  thinking  of  this  now,  as  she  and  her 
brother  were  riding  along  on  the  east  side  of  the  river ; 
riding  leisurely  along,  for  now  to  a  certainty,  there 
was  no  danger  of  savages.  Had  Mr.  Berenger  thought 
she  might  in  anyway  be  like  those  upon  whom  money 
could  be  spent  "in  objectionable  ways" — ?  Her  anger 
rose  at  such  a  possibility.  "Everybody  likes  him,  and 
he  thinks  that  of  me !  I  wish  I  had  struck  him."  Near- 
ing  home  the  horses  were  bearing  on  the  bit.  "We'll  let 
them  go  Daisy,  we're  almost  home." 

The  next  day  the  recollection  and  shame  of  the  oc 
currence  grew  unbearable.  She  was  walking  with  her 
mother  along  the  river  bank  and  they  had  stopped  to 
see  the  sunset. 

"There !"  said  Andrea,  "that  is  the  last  of  him.  My 
dear, — let  us  go  home; —  to-morrow,  there  will  be 
another.  Three  hundred  and  sixty-five  in  one  year — 
each,  differing  slightly,  but  still  differing  from  the 
other.  How  wonderful!  Here,  it  is  like  the  sunset  at 
sea ; — there  are  no  mountains  or  high  treetops  to  hide 
part  of  the  grand  picture: — we  see  it  in  all  its  per 
fection  of  light  and  color — the  scenes  shifting — from 
the  time  when  the  eye  can  bear  the  brilliant  flame-like 
rays,  until  they  sink  into  the  purple  shadows  of  the 
west." 

"Mother,  what  does  it  mean  when  one  person  winks 
at  another?"  Andrea  smiled. 

"Why — iFelicia,  what  singular  question!  What  do 
you  mean?"  She  turned  to  her  daughter,  and 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  131 

seeing  the  worried  look  of  shame  and  hesitation  ex 
pressed  in  the  earnest,  troubled  face  before  her, 
became  grave. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it.  It  depends  upon  who  does  it, 
and  how  and  why.  Who  has  winked  at  whom?"  Feli 
cia,  remembering  her  uncle's  parting  reproof  was 
making  great  efforts  not  to  cry. 

"My  darling!"  said  the  mother.  "Tell  me  all  about 
it.  I  am  sure  it's  of  no  consequence." 

Regaining  composure,  she  told  her  mother  the  par 
ticulars  of  the  humiliating  occurrence. 

"Why,  you  silly  child!    You  say  you  were  staring?" 

"Yes,  I  forgot  myself,  I  thought  he  was  handsomest 
person  I  had  ever  seen ;  and  was  trying  to  think  who 
had  the  same  kind  of  eyes — a  violet  gray.  Just  as  I 

remembered  it  was  Sister  C a,  the  directress  of 

studies  at  the  convent;  he  narrowed  his  eyes  and 
making  a  movement  with  his  head  like  beckoning — 
winked."  This  with  a  gesture  of  disgust. 

"Describe  it  more  fully.     Did  any  one  else  see  it?" 

Felix  repeated  the  description,  at  the  same  time  il 
lustrating  the  backward  movement  of  the  head,  which 
had  caught  and  held  her  attention. 

"Like  this,  mother,  and  so  quickly,  that  I'm  sure 
no  one  saw  him. 

"I  am  certain  there  is  no  cause  for  such  grief,  Feli 
cia.  It  might  have  been  a  mere  grimace — something  he 
could  not  help — some  little  nervous  defect.  Or  he  saw 
you  staring,  and  being  a  gay  and  perhaps  mischiev 
ous  young  man,  he  might  mean  no  more  than  to  let 
you  know  he  saw  you — and  to  tease  you.  It  was  only 
a  little  fun,  perhaps — coarse  fun,  it  is  true, — but  no 
harm  meant.  None  could  be  meant  in  this  case." 

"Oh,  mother,  I  thought  winking  always  meant  some 
thing  disgraceful.  Do  you  remember  what  you  said 
about  the  woman  Annecke  Vermuelen,  that  I  saw  on 
the  steam-boat?  I  was  afraid  he  took  me  for  some 
thing  like  that." 


132 


"What  was  it,  my  darling,  tell  me  again — I  have 
forgotten." 

"Don't  you  remember  the  Loafer-lady?  I  was  afraid 
he  might  have  thought  I  was  one  of  those." 

Andrea  laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"No — no — Felicia,  that  would  be  impossible:  utter 
ly  and  entirely  impossible.  Your  father  saw  him  this 
morning  and  was  introduced  to  him ;  and  Mr.  Berenger 
told  your  father  that  he  had  seen  his  little  girl  and 
boy — meaning  you  and  Daisy.  Your  father  thinks 
like  you  that  he  is  very  handsome — the  handsomest 
man  of  the  English  type,  he  ever  saw;  and  very  pre 
possessing.  I  think  that  such  extreme  beauty  is  some 
times  a  disadvantage  to  its  possessor,  and  it  may  be 
that  this  young  man  is  spoiled  to  some  extent: — but 
not  altogether,  for  Mr.  Larcom  told  your  father  that 
although  he  had  been  a  little  wild,  and  had  wasted  a 
great  deal  of  money,  he  had  now  become  quite  steady ; 
and  is  one  of  the  cleanest  and  most  moral  young  men 
in  the  country;  and  has  a  fine  aptitude  for  business. 
He  is  engaged  to  a  beautiful  girl  in  Montreal,  Canada. 
When  they  are  married  we  will  be  neighbors,  as  things 
go  in  this  country, — although  they  will  be  five  miles 
distant  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river ;  for  that 
reason,  when  you  meet  Mr.  Berenger,  Felicia,  you  must 
act  as  though  you  did  not  notice  or  remember  his  rude 
act ;  for  take  it  as  we  may — it  was  rude."  Her  mother 
was  right.  It  was  unimportant.  But  there  was  left 
a  bitter  sense  of  loss,  and  with  it  another,  half  child 
ish — half  womanly — of  aversion  to  the  beautiful  young 
lady  in  Canada. 


At  Little  Kosta,  the  wide  veranda,  running  the  full 
length  of  the  house  front,  commanded  a  good  view  of 
the  country  to  the  south,  east  and  west;  and  made  a 
delightful  resting  place: — answering  the  purpose  of 
either  walking,  sitting  or  lying  down.  There  were 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  133 

strong  hooks  in  the  ceiling  for  swinging  hammocks  and 
lighter  ones  for  hanging  lamps  or  lanterns.  There 
were  also  numbers  of  armchairs  as  well  as  rockers, 
for  those  who  preferred  them.  The  day  being  an  un 
usually  warm  one  for  the  month  of  February,  the 
family  had  assembled  here  after  the  customary  five 
o'clock  tea.  It  was  just  after  the  sun  went  down — 
when  the  growing  darkness  caused  Paul  to  lay  aside 
his  book.  Andrea  was  putting  to  rights  her  work 
box.  Felix  sitting  idly,  with  folded  hands.  Basil  with 
his  violin,  playing  by  heart,  his  last  exercises  and  Miss 
Boling  arranging  in  pairs,  a  basket  of  nicely  darned 
stockings — the  whole  group  forming  a  picture  of  rest 
and  contentment. 

All  at  once  there  came  from  the  left,  at  a  little  dist 
ance  from  the  house,  the  crashing  noise  of  falling  or 
breaking  timber,  the  sound  of  men's  voices  and  the 
heavy  tramp  of  horses  on  the  run. 

All  sprang  to  their  feet.  The  hounds  from  all  parts 
of  the  place  ran  yelping  to  the  fence.  Pancho,  the 
Mexican  sheep-herder,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the 
front  doorsteps,  ran  for  his  gun,  yelling  Indians.  "Los 
Indies.  Senor  Paul!  Quedo!" 

Paul,  peering  through  a  clump  of  intervening  bushes, 
saw  two  horsemen  vault  over  the  low  fence  and  join 
another  a  little  below. 

"By  Jinks!  Dot  vas  a  zhump!" 

"Jump  the  devil!  My  hoss  cleared  it  by  two  feet, 

easy." 

"De  fence  vas  higher  yet  vere  I  was;  und  more  up 
hill." 

"Come  back  here,  you  big  dutchman,  you  knocked 
a  rail  off;  come  and  put  it  up."  The  others  walked 
their  horses  slowly  up  to  the  far  end  of  the  veranda 
and  stopped.  They  were  silent.  The  whole  family 
gathered  near. 


134  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Good  evenin',  sir,"  said  one  of  them  to  Paul  who 
was  standing  expectantly  near  the  railing. 

"Good  evening,"  somewhat  irritably.  "Did  you  miss 
the  gate?  It's  straight  in  front  of  the  house." 

"That  makes  no  diffunce — we  don't  need  no  gate. 
We've  come  for — "  He  hesitated.  They  were  "post- 
oakers,"  hospitable  but  embarrased,  and  had  come  to 
take  Felicia  and  others  to  a  party  five  miles  away. 

"We've  come  for  your  daughter,"  he  said  to  Paul, 
who  stood  in  silence  not  knowing  what  to  say.  At  this 
announcement  of  their  object,  Felix  had  fled  and  Basil 
had  begun  to  laugh  loudly  and  unreservedly.  But 
Andrea,  more  conversant  with  the  affairs  of  the  ad 
joining  settlements  had  shrewdly  guessed  the  mean 
ing  of  the  sudden  assault. 

"It  is  a  party,  is  it  not,  Mr ?" 

"Howse  is  my  name,  Mrs.  Bathurst.  Yes  ma'am, 
it  is  a  party." 

Andrea  relieved  all  embarrassment  by  kindly  telling 
them  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  ready  on  such 

short  notice some  other  time — she  might  be  pleased 

to  attend,  herself,  as  well  as  bring  Felicia.  They  were 
off  and  away — a  wild  yell  from  a  distant  hill  a  minute 
after,  giving  evidence  of  hilarious  and  reckless  riding. 

"Mother,  would  you  really  allow  Felix  to  go  to  such 
a  dance?" 

"Why  not?  I  know  most  of  them.  But  of  course 
your  father,  Miss  Boling  or  I  would  go  with  her  as 
we  do  to  other  places  of  amusement.  They  are  all 
good  people." 

Just  as  Felix  had  again  appeared  on  the  veranda, 
the  echo  of  another  yell  came  upon  their  hearing. 

"They  are  going  after  some  other  girls,"  said  Basil, 
"I  heard  them  say  so  as  they  went  out  of  the  gate.  See 
what  you've  missed,  Felix;  you  were  the  only  one  of 
us  invited;  if  they'd  asked  me,  I  would  have  con 
sented." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  135 

"You  were  impolite,"  said  Miss  Boling.  "You 
laughed  in  their  faces  and  perhaps  they  took  note 
of  it." 

"I  couldn't  help  it;  all  the  rest  of  you  laughed,  ex 
cept  mother.  It  was  such  a  swoop  down — no  introduc 
tion  necessary — and  in  the  dark  at  that.  Anybody  can 
tell  that  it's  going  to  be  like  Mrs.  Andrews  said  it 
was." 

"How  did  she  say  it  would  be?"  asked  Felicia 
sharply. 

"I  don't  like  to  answer  when  you  talk  like  that,"  said 
Basil,  beginning  to  strum  on  his  violin  and  sing  in  a 
subdued  tone: 

"Here  come  three  lords  just  out  of  Spain, 
A  courting  for  your  daughter  Jane." 

"Weren't  there  three  of  them,  Miss  Effie, — and  if 
there  were,  where  is  the  other?"  Suddenly  laying  down 
his  violin,  he  ran  down  to  the  fence ;  not  seeing  anyone 
he  came  back,  saying  that  he  thought  he  had  heard 
Hillebrand's  voice  amongst  the  others  when  they  first 
came  up.  He  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  Otto 
came  up  the  walk. 

Basil  ran  to  meet  him.  After  introducing  him  to 
the  family,  none  of  them  except  Paul  having  ever  met 
him,  he  asked: — 

"Where  have  you  been,  Otto,  I  thought  you  came 
with  Howse?" 

"I  was  coming  here  when  they  overtook  me  and  we 
rode  along  together.  I  have  been  making  up  the  fence." 

"Making  up  the  fence?"     Everybody  laughed. 

"I  knocked  it  down.  They  told  me  it  was  a  calf  pen 
and  that  we  must  jump  it.  It  was  behind  the  laurel 
bushes  and  so  dark  I  could  not  see  that  it  was  the  yard. 
It  was  a  joke." 

"And  your  horse — where  is  he?"  asked  Basil. 

"The  black  man  who  helped  me  build  the  fence,  took 
him." 

"And  tea?"  asked  the  mother.  "Would  he  not  have 
something?" 


136  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"No,  no,  Mrs.  Bathurst,  I  have  only  come  to  call." 

"But  you  will  not  go  back,"  said  Paul.  "Daisy  go 
and  have  Mr.  Hillebrand's  horse  put  up." 

Daisy  bounced  up  and  out ;  then  began  a  happy  even 
ing,  the  first  of  many  which  afterwards  followed. 
Paul  led  him  to  talk  about  the  death  of  young  Leibelt, 
and  found  that  the  encounter  between  the  latter  and 
the  unknown  which  took  place  within  the  few  moments 
before  the  young  Polander  had  mounted  his  horse,  had 
not  been  noticed  as  Basil  had  construed  it;  and  that 
this  was  a  secret,  thought  of  by  himself  and  Basil 
alone.  Basil  felt  that  he  might  not  be  mistaken  in  his 
surmise,  but  if  correct  he  guessed  pretty  well  the 
nature  of  the  offence,  and  looking  upon  the  result  as 
most  deplorable  and  shocking,  it  would  be  a  lesson  to 
him,  lasting  throughout  his  life.  As  to  Justin,  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  tell  on  him  even  if  sure  of  his  guilt ; 
believing  the  victim  to  have  been  doubly  culpable  and 
to  have  got  no  more  than  his  deserts ;  for  at  the  inquest 
when  stripped  for  examination,  there  had  been  found 
in  the  vest  pocket  nearest  his  heart,  a  locket  inclosing 
the  miniatured  face  of  a  beautiful  girl,  the  inscription 
telling  of  plighted  troth.  Thus  had  the  unfortunate 
young  man,  reckless  of  giving  pain  to  others,  brought 
on  his  own  untimely  and  dishonourable  death. 

Running  along  different  lines,  Paul's  thoughts  were 
of  the  strength  and  power  of  love  when  it  happens  to 
be  the  dominant  passion  in  a  man's  nature ;  in  this  case 
of  a  force  to  change  an  easy  tempered,  phlegmatic, 
honest  and  law  abiding  Teuton — a  man  thirty  years  or 
more  of  age,  into  a  murderer.  He,  Paul  Bathurst, 
good  citizen  as  he  conceived  himself  to  be,  would  not 
go  further  into  the  mystery,  hoping  that  his  suspicion 
would  never  be  justified. 

"It  was  very,  very  bad,"  said  Otto,  "I  do  not  believe 
anybody  will  ever  know  who  killed  that  poor  young 
man." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  137 


CHAPTER  X. 

Although  there  were  no  longer  no  recitations  of 
lessons  learned,  Felicia  continued  her  studies  at  home ; 
nor  were  the  music  lessons  abandoned.  The  weekly 
visits  to  Sennefeldt  were  kept  up,  and  primary  lessons 
in  German  and  Spanish  begun.  In  these  Basil  also 
took  part.  Much  sewing  was  being  done.  Candace 
was  incessantly  engaged  in  making  articles  of  pretty 
wearing  apparel  in  which  dainty  embroidery,  her  own 
work,  was  a  distinguishing  feature.  She  also  made 
the  dresses  and  riding  habits  which  had  been  cut  and 
fitted  by  Miss  Boling  with  a  tailor-like  skill.  All  had 
become  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  schoolgirl  was  soon 
to  become  a  young  lady.  The  visits  made  by  Felix  and 
her  little  brother  were  bearing  fruit  in  an  increased 
number  of  visitors  of  all  classes.  Every  one  who  came 
went  away  pleased.  They  were  all  good  people;  many 
of  them  the  equals  of  their  hosts  in  all  respects ;  others 
kindly,  honest  but  uneducated  folk — men,  women  and 
their  children  who  had  settled  in  the  sandy  post  oak 
region,  because  they  were  too  poor  to  buy  the  rich 
valley  lands.  Felicia  made  friends  of  all  of  them. 
When  reminded  of  the  widespread  popularity  of  her 
pupil,  Miss  Boling  answered: 

"I  believe  it  is  because  she  never  makes  sport  of  any 
one.  I  found  on  repeating  some  of  the  ridiculous  mis 
takes  which  we  both  had  witnessed,  she  had  not  men 
tioned  them  even  to  her  parents ;  showing  a  trait  that 
might  well  be  borrowed  by  many  of  us  who  are  farther 
advanced  in  years,  if  not  in  wisdom  or  prudence."  In 
reply  to  a  remark  relating  to  rumors  of  another  kind, 
she  said : 


138  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Yes,  there  have  been  a  good  many — some  of  them 
eligible — but  they  seldom  get  further  than  Paul;  you 
know  she  is  but  a  little  past  sixteen.  This  matter  lies 
entirely  within  Paul's  jurisdiction,  and  he  manages 
it  with  the  skill  of  a  Frenchman.  I  do  not  think  she 
has  ever  been  in  that  way  interested  in  anyone.  If — 
If  that  should  ever  happen,  the  man  she  loves  will  have 
unbounded  influence  over  her.  I  hope  sincerely  he 
may  be  a  good  man  and  a  Christian." 


The  Bathursts,  Sanfords,  Crofts  and  other  members 
of  the  Episcopal  Church  having  no  organized  member 
ship  or  place  of  worship,  had  become  almost  regular 
attendants  at  the  meetings  held  on  Sundays  in  the  large 
stone  or  concrete  buildings,  now  finished,  and  looking 
like  substantial  schoolhouses,  as  indeed  they  were; 
being  filled  to  their  utmost  capacity  with  pupils  on 
week  days  and  with  the  congregations  of  other  Prot 
estant  churches  on  Sundays. 

The  Episcopalians  decided  to  wait  until  they  could 
build  a  church  of  the  kind  which  would  in  every  way 
express  the  proper  sacredness  of  a  place  of  worship. 
Until  such  a  time  they  would  meet  at  odd  intervals 
in  the  little  parlor  of  the  Rev.  John  Duffield,  an  En 
glish  clergyman,  regularly  ordained.  But  for  most 
part  they  went  to  the  regular  meeting  places  of  the 
neighborhood.  Their  children  attended  the  schools 
which  were  taught  by  selected  teachers  from  the  col 
leges  and  universities  of  Virginia  and  the  New  En 
gland  States.  Felix  had  sometimes  seen  Berenger  at 
these  meetings,  but  had  avoided  the  possibility  of  hav 
ing  to  speak  to  or  recognize  him,  and  had  always  a 
miserable  feeling  of  embarrassment ;  for  it  spite  of  the 
light  way  in  which  her  mother  had  dismissed  the  mat 
ter,  she  had  not  forgotten  it  or  changed  her  mind  as  to 
the  cause  of  the  impertinence.  Several  times  they  had 


139 


met  when  on  horseback,  yet  always  in  company  with 
others.  At  first,  as  is  frequently  done  (seeing  without 
seeming  to  see)  she  had  observed  a  humorous  change 
in  his  countenance  whenever  they  met, — but  latterly 
a  polite  bow  or  lifting  of  the  hat  was  his  only  greeting. 
She  had  stubbornly  ignored  both — looking  squarely  in 
his  face  without  the  slightest  return  of  these  attempts 
at  civility.  Once  when  in  company  with  Miss  Jean 
McCall,  her  friend  and  Berenger's  near  neighbor — he, 
stopping  to  speak  to  her  companion  in  reference  to 
a  message  from  her  father,  sent  a  day  or  two  before 
— Felix  passed  them  by  and  waited  at  a  distance. 

"Don't  you  know  Mr.  Berenger?"  asked  Jean,  when 
they  were  again  riding  side  by  side. 

"I  know  him  by  sight — but  we  have  not  yet  been 
introduced." 

"He  lives  just  below  us.  Our  next-but-one  neighbor. 
He  was  to  have  been  married  in  the  spring,  but  I  learn 
ed  that  his  marriage  was  postponed  until  late  in 
autumn  or  indefinitely.  The  cottage  is  finished,  and 
the  grounds  are  in  beautiful  order.  The  old  English 
sailor  who  takes  care  of  everything  is  like  a  professional 
gardener.  It  is  by  far  the  prettiest  place  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  It  is  large  for  a  cottage  and  the  veranda 
runs  all  around  it  except  on  the  north  side.  Father  says 
it  is  the  most  substantially  built  house  of  any  about 
here,  because  Mr.  Berenger  was  careful  of  the  founda 
tion.  Having  a  well  ventilated  Mansard  roof,  it  will 
be  cool,  besides  being  provided  with  a  roomy  garret." 

Heretofore  Berenger  had  shown  a  desire  to  force 
her  acquaintance;  but  today  there  seemed  to  be  a 
studied  disregard  of  her  presence;  for  after  a  glance 
of  apparent  disapproval,  he  never  looked  at  her.  She 
had  a  dim  consciousness  of  the  feeling  that  prompted 
him ;  for  whatever  had  been  the  cause  of  former  over 
tures,  he  had  became  tired  of  the  game  of  hide  and 
seek,  and  intended  to  let  her  have  her  own  way;  and 


140  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

it  was  more  than  probable  that  he  disliked  her.  That 
was  all  very  well.  Was  it  not  what  she  wanted?  But 
how  sad  it  had  left  her !  She  would  be  glad  to  be  again 
at  home — alone  in  her  room.  How  unhappy  she  was! 
Had  always  been  after  one  of  these  chance  meetings; 
and  always  whenever  a  new  lover  had  appeared.  There 
had  already  been  nearly  a  score;  some  of  whom  were 
not  to  be  considered  for  a  moment,  but  among  them 
others  of  whom  any  woman  might  be  proud.  The  face 
of  this  man — the  openly  affianced  lover  of  another 
had  always  intervened  and  barred  them  out. 

She  had  come  to  know  the  truth.  Always  given  to 
introspection,  she  had  met  it  bravely.  It  must  have 
been  an  oft  repeated  experience  in  the  lives  of  others, 
but  she  would  put  a  stop  to  it — if  possible — if  not,  it 
should  be  governed.  Sifted  to  the  bottom,  she  found 
that  her  own  preference  for  Berenger  had  a  great  deal 
to  do  with  her  continued  resentment — that  had  any 
other  man  stood  in  his  place  at  El  Correo,  she  would 
have  treated  it  with  the  contempt  it  deserved  and  have 
forgotten  it  long  ago.  She  would  no  longer  act  as  a 
child — she  would  never  avoid  him  again. 

When  once  more  at  home  and  alone,  she  reviewed 
her  past,  marking  out  a  line  of  conduct  for  the  future. 
There  was  much  of  resignation  in  the  new  formed  res 
olutions,  and  she  fell  asleep  with  a  feeling  nearly  akin 
to  despair.  Awakening  in  the  morning,  which  was  a 
Saturday,  with  pain  still  at  heart,  but  blaming  herself 
severely  for  harboring  it,  she  again  took  herself  to 
task  for  failing  to  say  her  prayers.  She  had  awakened 
from  her  stupor  and  gone  properly  to  bed — yet  for  the 
first  time  within  the  limit  of  her  memory  she  had  for 
gotten  this. 

It  might  well  be  said  that  her  governess  was  the  only 
one  who  had  noticed  these  of  late  frequent  fits  of  de 
spondency,  and  looked  for  a  cause;  which  she  took  to 
be  her  mother's  condition,  and  the  aftermath  of  the 
tragedy  which  took  her  out  of  school  and  brought  the 
family  to  Texas. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  141 

But  Andrea  had  kept  the  seriousness  of  her  illness 
from  the  knowledge  of  her  children,  and  now  the  death 
of  her  brothers  was  a  memory,  both  sad  and  sweet — to 
be  cherished  as  long  as  she  lived.  It  was  by  accident 
Miss  Boling  began  to  know  the  real  cause  of  her 
pupil's  unhappiness.  A  little  more  than  two  weeks 
before,  she  had  been  taken  violently  and  seriously  ill. 
Dr.  Wahrmund  had  made  his  last  visit  a  couple  of 
days  before,  and  Miss  Boling  had  just  eaten  her  first 
good  breakfast, — and  was  half-sitting,  half-lying — 
propped  up  by  pillows.  Felicia  was  flitting  about  the 
room  with  a  damp  dust  cloth,  wiping  off  the  dust  and 
putting  everything  in  its  right  place;  moving  on  tip 
toe  with  the  light  touch  and  grace  of  a  fairy. 
"Couldn't  you  open  that  window,  Felix?" 
"Not  yet,  Aunt  Effie,  I'm  going  to  do  better:  the 
Doctor  said  you  must  walk  today — use  your  limbs.  I 
am  going  to  put  you  in  my  room  for  awhile.  In  my 
bed,  with  all  the  windows  open.  Betty  will  finish  up 
this  room  and  air  it  well  before  I  let  you  come  back." 

"My  darling  child,  I  have  never  been  so  spoiled  and 
petted  in  all  my  life;  the  best  I  can  say  of  what  has 
gone  before,  is  that  my  life,  my  past  life,  has  to  some 
extent  been  a  useful  one,  and  an  instructive  one;  but 
in  the  last  few  weeks,  I  have  stumbled  upon  a  surprise. 
I  have  learned  something  new.  I  could  not  have 
thought,  a  month  ago  that  this  could  have  come  to  me. 
I  find  it  hard  to  even  remember  my  pain  and  danger ; 
after  all  the  care  that  has  been  taken  of  me,  this  clear 
cool  day  seems  like  a  foretaste  of  Heaven.  Your  mother 
and  yourself  make  up  what  I  have  learned  about  what 
is  newest  and  strangest  in  life."  She  paused  and  closed 
her  eyes. 

"Oh,"  said  Felicia,  "Mother  is  a  saint— but  I— I'm— " 
"Don't  tell  me  what  you  are;  I  know  what  you  are 
now,  and  what  you  may  be  when  you're  finished,  bet 
ter  than  you  know  yourself,"  said  Miss  Boling,  in  her 
usual  bluff  voice  and  manner.  "Keep  some  of  your 
temper  to  fight  with.  Don't  try  to  be  a  dove." 


142  AtONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"You'd  better  ask  me  to  try  not  to  be  a  wildcat. 
You've  never  seen  me  at  my  worst." 

"Your  worst  is  gone,  your  best  is  to  come,"  said  the 
invalid,  smiling.  "A  wildcat!"  The  next  day,  Miss 
Boling  was  able  to  get  about  without  assistance,  and 
taken  refuge  in  Felicia's  room  for  the  same  reason  as 
on  yesterday. 


"What  mus'  I  do  wid  dese  little  papers,  Miss  Effie?" 
said  Betty,  showing  two  sheets  of  badly  crumpled  and 
partially  burned  manuscript. 

"What  is  it — where  did  you  get  it?" 

"In  de  fire-place;  dey's  some  more,  but  I  swep'  the 
ashes  over  'em  before  I  noticed  'em." 

"I'll  see,"  said  Miss  Euphemia.  "Go  on  with  your 
work." 

Leaves  torn  from  a  diary.  The  first  looked  at,  was 
a  part  of  a  translation  made  from  a  volume  of  essays 
in  French.  And  the  other — the  other  was  a  fragment, 
quite  a  small  piece  of  paper,  so  torn  that  its  sense  or 
importance  would,  without  some  previous  knowledge 
of  the  writer,  have  been  practically  lost.  Knowing  it 
to  be  Felicia's,  she  was  about  to  throw  it  into  the  fire 
place  with  the  other  scraps,  but  thinking  it  might  be  a 
part  of  one  of  the  short  stories  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
writing,  only  to  read  aloud  to  others  and  throw  aside, 
it  might  be  amusing.  In  the  minute  but  firm  and  legi 
ble  tracing,  the  following  was  pieced  out: — 

"The  sermon  to-day  was  from  the  text,  'Know 
Thyself.'  I  began  at  once  to  think ;  and  it  is  quite  true, 
that,  although  I  did  not  heed  a  word  of  the  discourse, 
I  knew  myself  before  it  was  finished.  He  was  sitting 
on  the  other  side  of  the  aisle,  and  I  never  once  looked 
at  him  afterward.  I  have  allowed  myself  to  dream  of 
supplanting  the  one  he  loves.  That  alone  is  the  break- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  143 

ing  of  one  at  least  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  I  am 
covetous;  I  would  break  off  an  engagement  which 
under  existing  circumstances  is  as  sacred  as  a  mar 
riage  ;  at  least  that  is  the  way  it  seemed  to  me  to-day. 
I  felt  that  I  might  fall  into  the  lowest  depths  of  iniq 
uity  and  shame ;  for  I  have  broken  two  commandments, 
I  blame  and  hate  myself  for  it !  I  do  not  know  why — 
There  are  others.  I  might  love  0.  H.  if — But  why  love 
anyone  ?  It  is  not  necessary,  and  I  will  not.  Aunt  Ef f  ie 
and  unnumbered  others  have  not  found  it  necessary." 
Here  Miss  Boling  put  down  the  paper  at  once.  This 
was  no  part  of  an  essay  or  short  story — it  was  some 
thing  she  had  no  right  to  read.  She  was  very  much  in 
the  dark.  She  had  been  standing — bending  over  the 
desk;  she  now  sat  down  to  think.  These  were  not  the 
reflections  of  a  rattle-pated  school-girl;  and  it  was  a 
long  way  from  seventeen  to  seventy.  Of  late  she  had 
begun  to  know  how  very  long  it  was.  And  the  child 
was  thinking  of  imitating  her!  The  phrases  in  pencil- 
writing  meant  what  was  said.  0.  H.  was,  of  course, 
Basil's  handsome  young  German  friend.  But  who  was 
the  other?  She  stood  up  and  again  reached  out  for 
the  paper — but  drew  back.  Her  curiosity  was  great, 
but  inherent  honour  and  integrity  were  the  stronger 
factors,  and  the  opportunity  was  lost.  She  threw  the 
paper  in  the  fire-place. 

The  fact  of  the  famous  preacher's  arrival  had  been 
heralded  throughout  the  neighborhood  on  the  preced 
ing  day.  They  would  all  go.  Andrea  was  uncommonly 
well  and  Miss  Boling  had  fully  recovered. 

It  was  a  bright  day ;  and  with  it  had  come  a  sense 
of  freedom — of  self -emancipation  from  previous  gov 
erning  influences;  added  to  this  was  a  knowledge  of 
her  mother's  improved  condition;  and  Felicia  was 
happy.  Besides,  she  was  young,  and  was  wearing 
to-day  her  first  long — really  long-dress.  On  sides  and 
back  it  hung  in  graceful  folds  of  soft,  dark  blue  cash 
mere,  reaching  to  the  floor.  The  short,  circular  cloak 


144  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

of  the  same  shade  and  colour,  was  of  velvet,  banded 
with  rich,  dark  brown  fur.  A  pretty  hat  of  shirred 
silk,  with  ribbons  tied  under  the  chin,  all  of  which 
combining  with  the  youth  and  loveliness  of  the  wearer, 
made  a  picture  of  surpassing  beauty.  Since  the  end 
ing  of  her  schooldays,  she  had  been  the  recipient  of 
almost  innumerable  gifts,  consisting  of  every  known 
article  belonging  to  the  wardrobe  of  a  young  lady. 
From  her  mother,  complete  sets  of  embroidered  linen 
underwear,  made  in  the  convents  of  San  Antonio  and 
the  City  of  Mexico.  From  Candace — collars,  cuffs, 
handkerchiefs,  and  other  ornaments  of  lace: — the 
work  of  her  own  hands  and  worth  more  than  their 
weight  in  gold.  It  was  Miss  Boling's  pleasure  to  make, 
and  to  teach  her  to  make,  the  habits  and  frocks ; — and 
also  to  do  milliner's  work. 

Felicia  had  shown  plainly,  that  she  rated  in  a  much 
higher  degree,  the  feeling  which  was  at  the  back  of 
this  loving  solicitude — for  although  neat  in  the  ex 
treme  sense  of  the  word,  she  cared  little  for  dress. 
This  morning  when  about  to  leave  her  room, — 
looking  in  the  rather  large  glass  belonging  to  her  dress 
ing-table — she  felt  a  two-fold  appreciation.  Running 
lightly  down  stairs, — she  went  to  her  mother's  room 
to  get  a  full  length  view  of  herself  in  the  mirror  form 
ing  the  door  of  a  large  armoire  which  stood  there.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  realized  her  own  beauty. 
Andrea  laughed  as  she  noted  the  palpable  fact. 

"What  is  it,  mother?  Is  it  I — or  all  these  pretty 
things  you  have  given  me?"  Still  turning  to  the  mirror. 
"Is  it  my  dress,  or  myself?" 

"Both : — but  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  can  believe 
that  you  sometimes  look  well." 


The  preacher  had  not  yet  arrived: — the  house  was 
already  filled  to  nearly  its  full  capacity.  The  Bathursts 
had  taken  seats  in  the  front  row  to  the  left  of  the  pul 
pit;  it  was  a  little  crowded;  a  lady  came  to  Andrea 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  145 

carrying  a  cushion — begging  her  to  sit  in  an  arm-chair, 
which  her  son  following  her  was  carrying.  Andrea 
gratefully  consented  and  was  comfortably  seated  near 
them.  The  people  had  been  talking  in  low  tones,  but" 
now  the  preacher  had  entered  the  pulpit  and  was  kneel 
ing  in  silent  prayer.  Some  men,  among  them  the  Hough- 
ton  brothers  and  Berenger,  came  in  at  the  farther  end 
door,  to  the  left  of  the  pulpit,  where  were  seated  the 
male  members  of  the  assembly.  As  there  were  no  un 
occupied  seats  left  in  that  locality,  they  were  directed 
to  the  front  benches;  all  had  found  places  but  one  of 
the  Houghtons,  who  went  out,  and  Berenger ;  who,  not 
caring  to  stand  throughout  the  sermon,  and  finding  no 
place  in  the  men's  quarters,  looked  at  the  seat  vacated 
by  Andrea,  walked  over  and  sat  down  by  Felix. 

She  moved  a  little,  and  facing  him,  their  eyes  met; 
then  seeing  the  half-defiant,  half-mocking  expression 
— which  of  late  had  become  habitual,  without  any 
change  of  manner,  she  arose  at  once  and  going  to  the 
next  row  back,  again  seated  herself. 

The  young  man,  after  flashing  a  fiery  glance  after 
her  as  she  left,  turned  squarely  around,  looked  in  her 
face  with  a  momentary  stare  of  haughtiness  and  anger ; 
then  sitting  rigidly  erect,  gave  his  whole  attention  to 
the  preacher. 

Miss  Boling  was  astounded.  She  looked  back  in 
quiringly,  but  Felecia's  eyes  were  cast  down,  and  she 
was  quite  pale.  Not  so  with  Berenger.  She  took 
notice  that  it  was  some  minutes  before  the  hot  flush 
which  reddened  his  features  had  disappeared. 

Andrea,  a  little  distance  in  front,  saw  nothing;  nor 
did  it  seem  to  attract  the  attention  of  any  one  else. 

What  did  it  mean?  Miss  Boling  at  once  became  ab 
sorbed  in  her  reflections,  oblivious  to  all  that  was  go 
ing  on  around  her.  She  had  seen  the  light  of  intense 
pleasure  brighten  the  face  of  the  man  at  first  sight  of 


146  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Felicia,  and  the  following  equally  frank  flush  of  anger 
when  she  went  away.  Although  she  had  never  met 
him,  she  knew  without  telling,  who  he  was,  and  con 
nected  him  at  once  with  something  which  had  long 
been  a  puzzle  to  her: — "the  mysterious  leaf  out  of  a 
diary" — especially  after  having  unsuccessfully  followed 
up  several  promising  clues.  When  she  had  it  in  her 
power  to  know  the  truth,  she  had  hesitated.  Would 
it  have  been  so  bad  if  she  had  looked?  But  she  did 
not  look.  And  as  she  had  not  cared  to  do  so,  she  had 
redoubled  her  efforts  in  other  ways. 

But  after  all,  would  it  not  have  been  the  more  up 
right  way  to  have  gone  to  Felicia,  herself?  No. — she  had 
always  avoided  being  looked  upon  with  even  a  shadow 
of  suspicion,  and  she  would  not  risk  it;  she  could  not 
bear  the  expression  of  it  in  the  eyes  of  the  one  she 
had  come  to  love  best  in  all  the  world;  she  might  be 
acting  a  detective's  part,  but  she  would  be  prudent. 
She  would  continue  as  she  had  begun  at  first,  remem 
bering  that  when  she  had  found  that  a  date  on  the 
burned  paper  was  the  same,  or  rather  the  day  after 
Felicia's  visit  to  Jean  McCall,  she  had  made  a  point 
of  going  into  the  parlor  whenever  a  visitor  came,  no 
matter  who,  and  adroitly  contrived  to  learn  the  name 
of  every  person,  singly  or  collectively,  met  by  Felix 
on  the  day  of  her  visit  to  Jean  and  Anna  McCall.  The 
name  of  Berenger  came  in  with  the  others,  but  she  felt 
she  was  but  little  wiser,  for  any  one  of  them  may  have 
been  affianced,  for  all  she  knew  to  the  contrary.  She 
had  heard  of  Berenger  as  one  of  the  few  English  set 
tlers  on  the  Guadalupe,  and  knew  he  was  unmarried; 
and  she  fancied  that  Felicia  had  rather  halted  in  speak 
ing  of  him;  still  it  was  more  likely  to  be  one  of  the 
others,  as  almost  all  of  them  had  visited  the  house. 
Besides  his  being  unmarried,  she  had  heard  many  other 
things  about  him — if  this  was  Berenger,  as  indeed  it 
must  be.  For  there  could  be  no  two  in  many  thou 
sands  like  him.  She  fell  to  studying  him.  She  had 
heard  of  his  goodness  and  his  wickedness;  of  his  love 


14? 


for  his  horses  and  dogs ;  of  his  kindness  to  Warren,  an 
old  sailor,  who  had  followed  him  all  his  life;  and  of 
how  gentle  and  respectful  he  was  to  the  old  of  every 
class.  His  personal  beauty  had  not  been  exag 
gerated  in  the  telling.  She  saw  what  might  be  taken 
as  confirmation  of  these  pleasing  reports,  in  every 
line  and  feature  of  the  superb  head  and  face. 

"But  that  changes  nothing.  We  have  nothing  to  do 
with  that.  Is  he  engaged?  That  is  our  question.  If 
he  is  not,  our  trouble  is  the  same.  If  he  is — he  is  the 
man  who  is  the  cause  of  it,"  she  reflected.  "There  is 
plainly  some  kind  of  an  understanding  between  them. 
If  he  is  the  man,  it  is  easy  to  account  for  and  excuse 
the  indifference  to  all  other  men."  It  was  of  no  use 
to  speculate  further,  she  would  wait: — besides  she 
was  in  church. 

A  few  days  after,  she  congratulated  herself  upon 
her  policy.  A  visitor  had  asked  Felicia  if  she  had 
ever  met  Berenger.  "Never,  as  an  acquaintance,"  was 
the  reply.  "Father,  mother — and  I  believe  both  Basil 
and  Daisy,  know  him, — but  I,  only  by  sight." 

Another  misconception,  thought  Miss  Euphemia — 
she  doesn't  know  him — and  yet  the  burden  was  one  of 
self -upbraiding — for  the  unmaidenly  sin  of  giving  way 
to  an  unrighteous  love,  and  written  very  plainly,  as 
one  talks  or  thinks  to  one's  self.  A  plain  confession — 
and  I  believe  this  is  the  man. 

"Oh,  I  can  make  nothing  of  it!"  she  exclaimed  at 
last.  "She  doesn't  know  him — and  will  not  sit  by  him 
— whether  she  does  or  not;  and  still  she  loves  him: 
Well — that  may  be — I've  known  it  to  happen — this  love 
at  sight : — but  it's  a  bad  thing  to  get  complicated  with 
a  man  like  that  in  any  shape.  I'll  stop  thinking  about 
it." 

On  reaching  the  door,  Felicia  found  that  her  mother 
was  already  in  the  carriage,  and  that  all  were  waiting 
for  her.  Hastily  making  her  adieus  to  the  friends  who 


148 


had  detained  her,  she  started  to  the  carriage;  on  her 
way  she  passed  a  group  of  men  and  boys ;  a  little  apart 
from  them  and  nearer  her  pathway,  stood  Larry 
Houghton  and  Berenger.  She  would  have  to  pass 
them — there  was  no  help  for  it.  They  began  to  look 
at  her,  when  near  enough,  both  raised  their  hats  and 
bowed  slightly,  looking  very  conscious  as  they  did  so. 
After  she  had  taken  her  place  in  the  carriage,  she 
was  again  facing  them,  and  glancing  in  their  direction, 
she  saw  that  they  had  not  moved  and  were  still  regard 
ing  her.  She  thought  they  had  been  talking  about 
her.  She  was  not  mistaken ;  for  after  she  had  passed 
out  of  hearing,  Larry  had  said: — 

"She  didn't  want  to  sit  by  you,  and  she  wouldn't." 

"Did  you  notice  that?  She  is  a  vindictive  little 
shrew!"  said  Berenger,  again  reddening,  and  with  an 
impatient  movement  of  his  shoulders,  beginning  to 
speak  of  something  else. 


It  was  not  of  her  own  volition,  that  Felicia  had  left 
her  seat.  Neither  was  it  from  any  feeling  of  pervers 
ity;  the  act  was  the  involuntary  result  of  all  that  had 
gone  before.  There  had  been  no  time  for  thought ;  and 
it  was  not  until  she  encountered  his  angry  glance,  that 
she  knew  how  rude  she  had  been.  For  a  moment,  the 
impulse  to  return  was  almost  irresistible — she  had  even 
arisen  to  do  so ;  but  following  close,  came  the  thought 
that  such  a  move  would  draw  attention  to  what  might 
otherwise  be  unoticed.  Further  reflection  brought  to 
mind  that  Mr.  Berenger,  himself,  had  not  always  been 
so  considerate.  She  would  let  it  go  for  what  it  was 
worth;  and  was  for  a  moment  conscious  of  a  mixed 
feeling  of  amusement  and  gratified  resentment. 

It  was  true  that  she  no  longer  attached  the  same  im 
portance  to  the  act  which  had  so  touched  her  pride,  that 
day  at  El  Correo,  but  the  wound  had  been  deep  and  was 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  149 

remembered  as  one  that  might,  upon  opportunity,  take 
another  and  perhaps  kindred  shape.  Impressions  made 
at  early  ages  are  hard  to  efface.  But  she  had  dis 
covered  that  she  could  offend  him — she  had  seen  the 
blush  which  had  spread  over  neck  and  ears  as  well  as 
cheek  and  brow.  She  had  looked  at  the  rigid  lines  of 
the  partially  revealed  profile,  and  smiled  with  intense 
enjoyment.  Nevertheless;  throughout  the  day  until 
evening  she,  as  Miss  Boling  observed  with  the  greatest 
concern  and  disquietude,  remained  pale  and  thought 
ful, — hovering  about  and  following  her  parents,  or 
sitting  listlessly,  near  them.  Nor  did  she,  as  was  her 
habit,  join  her  governess  in  their  customary  evening 
walk  through  the  grounds  or  along  the  river  bank. 
Miss  Euphemia  had  excused  herself  at  an  early  hour 
and  gone  to  her  room  to  think  it  over ; — but  had  given 
it  up — put  out  her  candle — and  gone  to  bed.  A  little 
later  she  heard  Felicia's  voice  in  the  narrow  corridor 
which  led  from  the  stairway  past  her  door.  She  was 
answering  some  one  down  stairs.  In  passing,  she 
knocked; — and  being  told  to  come  in, — she  entered, 
saying : — 

"Aunt  Effie,  have  you  gone  to  bed? — Oh,  you  sneak! 
you  forgot  to  kiss  me.  Finding  her  way  to  the  bed, 
and  lying  down  upon  it,  there  followed  the  usual  pet 
ting  and  the  little  gossiping  talk — so  sweet  to  the 
adopted  aunt  who  would  never  have  a  daughter  or 
niece  of  her  own.  When  again  alone  she  said  to  her 
self:  "Why  grieve?  She  will  perhaps  get  the  best  out 
of  life  if  only  for  the  pleasure  given  others.  Some  of 
its  sweetness  will  of  a  certainty  come  back  to  her. 
Wherever  she  may  turn  she  will  find  a  certain  kind  of 
happiness  even  not  looking  for  it,  for  love  seems  to  come 
to  her  as  a  birthright.  I  will  go  to  sleep." 


ISO  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  Cromptons  had  been  long  in  Texas.  Their  com 
ing  antedated  that  of  the  Austins,  in  1821.  William 
Crompton  was  born  in  New  York  City. 

The  son  of  an  opulent  hardware  merchant  he 
brought  with  him  to  the  republic,  inherited  money, 
which  he  invested  with  so  much  wisdom,  that  it  again 
and  again  quadrupled  in  value;  and  at  this  time  he 
was  the  richest  cattle-man  west  of  the  Brazos.  He 
had  cattle  on  a  thousands  hills, — with  good  title  deeds 
to  a  greater  part  of  the  lands  over  which  they  roamed. 

He  had  come  to  Texas,  when  lands  were  cheap — and 
people  bought  acres  by  thousands.  His  wife  was  a 
typical  Southern  lady ; — of  good  family,  well  educated, 
and  well-bred ;  besides,  she  was  possessed  of  a  fortune 
in  her  own  right.  William,  alone  of  all  the  Cromptons, 
had  distinguished  himself  in  battle.  He  had  been  in 
many  skirmishes  as  a  Ranger — was  in  the  siege  of 
Velasco, — and  afterwards  fought  under  Houston  at 
San  Jacinto. 

Early  in  the  fifties,  he  built  a  mansion  of  gray 
stone — quarried  on  the  estate, — not  five  hundred  yards 
from  the  door-step.  The  site  of  the  building  was  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Guadalupe  river,  and  this  silvery 
stream  could  be  seen  winding  its  way  through  the  vast 
pasture  lands  to  the  westward.  The  house  stood  in 
the  center  of  the  great  semicular  plateau,  sufficiently 
elevated  to  command  a  view  of  the  broad  valleys  and 
hills  of  less  altitude,  which  surrounded  it  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach. 

It  was  a  four-storied  building;  consisting,  first,  of 
an  English  basement,  the  second  and  third  stories,  and 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  151 

an  attic.  The  rooms  were  large.  The  hall  being  fif 
teen  feet  wide  by  forty-six  in  length.  At  first  build 
ing,  there  was  a  wing  of  six  rooms — comprising  three 
rooms  on  the  ground  story,  and  their  counterparts 
above.  This  was  on  the  east.  Now  on  the  west  side 
there  was  a  similar  addition,  just  completed;  forming 
a  courtyard  or  patio,  of  imposing  size,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  house. 

There  was  to  be  a  ball.  Intended  to  answer  the 
double  purpose  of  a  house-warming  to  the  new  wing 
and  a  welcome  to  the  New  Year. 

The  customary  cotillions,  quadrilles,  polkas,  and 
waltzes  were  in  the  programme  of  dances,  but  it  was 
to  end  with  the  Virginia  reel; — at  precisely  fifty-nine 
and  three  quarter  minutes  past  eleven  o'clock. 

To  be  so  arranged,  that  the  last  bow  and  courtesy, 
should  be  made  on  the  stroke  of  twelve, — 1856. 

The  ball  would  open  at  half -past  eight.  When  over, 
the  Mexican  employes  and  their  women,  en  costume 
Espanol,  would  end  the  entertainment  with  a  Spanish 
dance,  and  take  away  the  remains  of  the  feast. 


"Your  first  ball,  Felicia.  My  first  ball  was  at 
Charleston.  I  wore  a  costume,  which  had  been  worn 
by  my  mother,  ten  years  before,  at  a  reception  given 
to  Gen.  LaFayette  on  his  last  visit  to  America.  It  was 
rich  and  elegant,  and  is  so  still,  I  have  no  doubt,  as 
Sarah  has  the  care  of  it.  I  would  like  to  see  you  in  it ; 
but  of  course  not  to  wear  it  to  the  ball — for  even  if  it 
were  not  so  entirely  out  of  fashion,  it  would  not  be  ap 
propriate  on  an  occasion  like  this;  although,  I  know 
this  to  me  would  prove  quite  as  interesting  as  the  first 
ball  at  which  it  was  worn. 

"It  is  bound  to  be  unique.  I  can  not  imagine  what 
it  will  be  like.  I  would  so  like  to  be  with  you ;  but  as 
that  will  be  impossible,  I  want  you  and  Miss  Boling 


152  ALONG  THE  KING  S   HIGHWAY 

to  be  eyes  and  ears  for  me.  Note  well  the  people — 
their  dress,  their  manners,  and  conversation — don't 
let  anything  escape  you.  I  want  separate  accounts; 
then  I  will — I  know  I  will  feel  like  I  had  been  present." 

It  was  the  31st  day  of  December,  1855.  The  short 
winter  day  had  come  early  to  a  close,  when  the  party, 
consisting  of  over  a  half-dozen  carriages,  including 
that  from  Little  Kosta,  reached  its  destination.  Other 
carriages  with  their  freight  of  youths,  maidens,  chape 
rons,  man-servants,  maid-servants,  boxes  and  band 
boxes  were  also  enroute  up  the  long  avenue.  There 
were  also  many  on  horseback.  The  sun  had  quite  dis 
appeared  in  the  horizon.  But  there  was  a  blaze  of  light 
from  the  wide  open  hall-door  and  many  windows  in 
the  one  hundred-foot-front  of  the  building.  There 
were  many  hanging  lamps  throughout  the  grounds; 
and  huge  bonfires  were  burning  on  each  end  of  the 
great  plateau;  kept  up  by  the  Mexican  vaqueros,  who 
lived  at  the  ranch; — their  dark  figures  moving  about 
with  firebrands,  gave  an  enchanting  wildness  to  the 
scene. 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  darling  mother  could  see  that!"  said 
Felicia.  "Look,  Aunt  Effie,  you  can  see  the  bright 
colours  of  their  blankets, — and  the  sheen  of  metal  on 
their  hats." 

"You  might  as  well  say  gleam  of  silver,  Felix,  for 
the  poorest  vaquero,  wouldn't  wear  any  other  metal  on 
his  sombrero, — if  unable  to  buy  a  good  hat  he  may 
twist  a  piece  of  red  silk  around  it,  but  he  won't  wear 
tinsel." 

When  a  half-hour  later,  coming  down  from  the 
dressing-room,  they  entered  the  hall,  the  doors  were 
closed  at  each  end,  showing  in  its  walls,  unbroken  by 
the  usual  stairway,  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  de 
signed — and  which  it  now  formed: — a  ball-room. 
Complete  as  to  size — and  superior  to  the  separate 
buildings  commonly  used  in  the  older  States  for  this 


OR  THE;  INVISIBLE  ROUTE  153 


purpose,  by  being  connected  with  the  large  double  par 
lours  on  the  right  and  the  dining-room  on  the  left, — 
making  it  especially  well  adapted  to  country  entertain 
ments.  The  rooms  were  crowded  with  guests — sitting 
on  chairs  or  benches  along  the  walls,  or  standing  in 
groups  in  the  center  of  the  floor. 

The  greater  part  of  those  unseated  were  collected 
about  the  now  wide  open  folding  doors  of  the  parlours. 
There  was  a  sound  of  dancing  and  the  music  of  a  piano 
and  guitar,  played  with  masculine  and  masterly  touch 
and  skill.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  laughing,  and 
when  Miss  Boling  had  cleverly  made  her  way  through 
the  crowd  in  her  desire  to  reach  Mrs.  Crompton,  the 
cause  of  the  merriment  was  discovered.  A  couple  of 
young  officers  in  the  United  States  Infantry  uniform, 
were  waltzing  around  the  center-table,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  all  beholders ;  an  audience,  which  though 
differing  widely  in  many  respects,  were  not  lacking 
in  respectability  and  decorum.  After  being  greeted 
by  the  hostess  and  introduced  to  those  nearest  about 
her,  Felix  recognized  in  one  of  the  musicians,  Otto 
Hildebrand,  who  since  the  night  he  "broke  into  the 
yard,"  as  he  laughingly  expressed  it,  had  become  a 
frequent  visitor  and  fast  friend  of  the  family.  Of  late 
he  had  been  at  Reutersville  College  and  was  now  at 
home  for  the  holidays  and  was  also  looking  his  best 
in  the  college  uniform.  When  the  captivating  waltz 
was  over,  Felicia  stole  up  behind  him,  unobserved  in 
the  number  of  the  music  lovers  collected  about  the 
piano,  said  in  quiet  tones : 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you  here  to-night,  Otto." 

He  turned  and  seized  her  out-stretched  hand, — 
nearly  dropping  his  violin  in  the  joyous  excitement  of 
meeting  her. 

"Oh,  Julius !" — to  a  young  man  seated  at  the  piano, 
intently  studying  a  sheet  of  music.  ."This  is  Miss 
Bathurst  of  which  I  told  you." 

"Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Stromberg, — Miss  Bathurst." 


154  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Mr.  Srtomberg  was  a  handsome  young  German  of 
twenty-six  years  with  large,  brown  eyes,  which  sug 
gested  to  one  able  to  sound  their  slumbrous  depths, 
that  he  might  be  a  dreamer — a  lover  of  the  occult — a 
student  of  the  mystical  and  the  mythical.  In  reality 
it  was  known  that  he  was  an  accomplished  scholar — 
especially,  in  literary  philology,  and  music;  and  that 
young  as  he  was,  he  had  been  a  revolutionist,  and  had 
suffered  from  political  troubles,  in  his  native  land. 

"Are  you  trying  to  make  up  a  band?"  Felix  asked 
of  him,  after  a  glance  at  the  music  he  still  held  in  his 
hand. 

"You  have  guessed  it.  Mrs.  Crompton  was  kind 
enough  to  say  she  wanted  to  open  the  ball  with  the 
best  of  music, — no  matter  what  might  follow,  and  beg 
ged  us  to  bring  our  own  instruments.  We  have  two 
tenor  violins  and  a  bass, — also  a  guitar.  Mr.  Jackson 
takes  part  as  second  violin.  We  wil  play  for  the  first 
two  quadrilles  and  a  couples  of  round  dances,  and  after 
that  the  niggers  will  take  our  places." 

Otto  began  to  grumble.  Everything  was  so  pleasant 
here  in  Texas;  and  yet  his  father  was  going  to  send 
him  to  a  German  University.  He  did  not  want  to  go, 
he  said — for  he  was  not  prepared;  and  he  was  afraid 
he  would  have  to  be  absent  so  many  years — he  was  so 
backward.  What  did  he  need  with  so  much  knowledge 
anyway  ? 

"Stromberg  speaks  and  writes  in  seven  different 
languages.  But  what  good  will  it  ever  do  him?" 

"What  good?  Every  good — I'm  going  to  be  an 
editor,  and  astonish  the  world,"  he  replied,  laughing. 
"At  least,  I  will  make  my  mark — I  will  attract  atten 
tion.  I  will  not  be  a  cipher."  And  so  it  was  in  after 
years. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  155 

"Will  you  honour  me  with  a  dance,  Miss  Bathurst, 
when  we  get  through  our  part?  If  you  will — put  me 
down  on  your  tablette,  for  the  third  quadrille."  Felix 
wrote  his  name. 

"And  mine  for  the  next,"  said  Hildebrand. 

"And  from  now,  till  then,  I  will  see  how  it  is  to  be 
a  wall-flower, —  for  no  one  has  asked  me  for  the  first 
two  quadrilles." 

"Be  assured  you  will  not  play  a  part  like  that,  Miss 
Bathurst,  never  as  long  as  you  live,"  said  Stromberg, 
as  he  gathered  up  his  music  to  go  into  the  hall. 

"Wall-flower,  indeed!  Not  her  for  a  wall-flower — if 
she  lives  to  be  eighty,"  said  a  stout  lady  sitting  beside 
her  husband  close  by. 

"She's  the  prettiest  girl  here  to-night ;  and  she  don't 
owe  it  to  her  clothes,  neither;  for  I'd  bet  all  she's  got 
on  didn't  cost  twenty-five  dollars,  unless  them's  real 
pearls  in  her  necklace,  and  that  berthe's  real  lace." 

"She's  a  sight  too  slim  and  delikit  for  my  style,"  said 
the  man,  looking  admiringly  at  his  wife. 

Felix  was  still  sitting  on  the  vacated  piano  stool; 
taking  notes  and  rubbing  out  old  marks  on  her  tablette, 
when  Mrs.  Peyton,  a  married  daughter  of  the  Cromp- 
tons,  said  to  some  one  in  the  room: — "Miss  Bathurst 
is  not  dancing."  Taking  it  for  a  casual  remark,  she 
went  on  with  her  pencilling. 

"You  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  Berenger,  aren't  you, 
Miss  Bathurst?" 

Not  thinking  of  his  being  present  and  without  look 
ing  up,  she  replied. 

"No,  Mrs.  Peyton,  I  am  not." 

"Then  let  me  introduce  you,"  said  Mrs.  Peyton, 
touching  her  shoulder.  Felix  turned  and  the  introduc 
tion  took  place. 

"Can  you  give  me  the  first  dance,  Miss  Bathurst, 
or  have  you  given  it  away?" 

"No  these  names  are  for  the  third  and  fourth." 

"Then  put  me  down  for  the  first  and  second." 


156  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Two?"  Looking  up  and  meeting  the  bold  laughing 
eyes — she  as  quickly  looked  down  again  and  wrote 
his  name  opposite  the  numbers.  He  bent  over — looking 
at  the  tablets.  He  had  been  afraid  she  would  refuse. 

"Yes,  two — and  come  quickly,  they  are  making  up 
the  first  quadrille.  Let  us  get  the  best  place." 

There  were  two  quadrilles  forming  in  the  hall. 

"We'll  take  this  place.  There!  We  are  the  first 
couple— first  lady  and  lirst  gentleman.  As  it  ought 
to  be.  Isn't  it?'" 

Then  insistently — as  he  saw  her  hesitation. 

"Don't  you  think  so?  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to 
have  the  first  place?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  haven't  thought  about  it,"  she  an 
swered,  laughing. 

"Look  then — around  the  room,  and  think  about  it. 
Don't  you  see  we're  the  best-looking  of  all  the  people 
here?" 

"I  couldn't  say  that.  Don't  count  me  in  Mr. 
Berenger." 

"Then  counting  you  out — what  about  me?" 

"What  modesty!"  said  Felicia,  barely  glancing  to 
wards  him.  "I  am  not  a  competent  judge." 

"Not  competent  to  judge  a  man  on  his  merits?  I 
thought  you  were.  If  report  speaks  truly,  you  only 
need  time  and  a  little  more  experience  to  be  competent 
in  anything  you  might  try  to  do.  You  are  the  most 
expert  dodger  I  ever  met." 

"How  is  that?" 

"I  have  been  trying  to  meet  you  for  the  past  two 
years — but  as  you  know  I  have  failed.  I  have  suspected 
you  of  trying  to  keep  out  of  my  way.  Isn't  it  so?" 

Felix  became  grave. 

"I  am  or  ought  to  be  still  a  schoolgirl.  I  have  been 
constantly  employed  in  studying  my  books,  for  nearly 
all  the  time  included  in  your  indictment." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  157 

"Studying  books  and  refusing  more  than  a  dozen 
offers  of  marriage,  by  way  of  recreation,  it  has  been 
said.  Isn't  it  true— little  Felix?" 

iFelix  flushed  angrily.    Speaking  slowly,  she  said : — 

"I'm  not  a  child.  I'm  nearly  seventeen  years  old. 
I've — I've  never  sought  an  offer  of  marriage.  I  don't 
care  to  speak  of  it." 

"Don't  get  angry  with  me  again,  Miss  Bathurst.  I 
didn't  know  you  were  such  an  old  woman.  Won't  you 
sit  out  the  next  quadrille  and  talk  with  me  about  the 
past  two  years.  I  really  want  an  explanation."  The 
prompting  began. 

When  the  dance  was  over,  he  said : — 

"We  ought  to  be  friends.  I  know  your  father  and 
mother  well: — besides,  we  are  from  the  same  State. 
I  was  born  in  England,  and  I  am  still  a  subject  of  Her 
Brittanic  Majesty;  but  my  boyhood  days  were  spent 
in  Louisiana,  your  native  land,  and  I  was  at  the  State 
University  several  years  before  I  went  to  Oxford.  I 
feel  more  at  home  among  the  English  in  and  around 
New  Orleans,  than  with  any  other  people  in  the  world. 
There  is  much  about  your  father's  family  that  reminds 
me  of  the  people  of  Louisiana." 

"That  is  because  father  is  half  a  Frenchman.  His 
mother  is  a  Frenchwoman — but  she  has  always  lived 
in  Charleston.  I  have  an  aunt,  my  mother's  sister,  who 
lives  on  Poydras  street,  New  Orleans." 

"I  know  every  square,  street,  alley,  nook,  and  corner 
of  New  Orleans,  and  yet,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  am  a  proper 
man,"  he  said,  irrelevantly,  thinking  to  correct  pos 
sible  bad  first  impressions. 

The  effect  was  the  opposite  of  that  intended,  and 
afraid  he  was  getting  back  to  badinage,  she  said  hur 
riedly  : 

"Mr.  Berenger,  I  think  you  like  my  father  and 
mother,  and  you  say  we  ought  to  be  friends: — why 
have  you  never  been  to  our  house?" 

"Do  you  want  me  to  come?" 


158  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I — ?  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that — "(confused 
ly) — "But  of  course  I  do  not  object." 

"Thank  you — I  was  afraid  you  did,"  moving  nearer 
and  placing  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  "Say — 
didn't  you  know  me  to-night?  I  heard  you  tell  Mrs. 
Peyton,  that  you  weren't  acquainted  with  me.  What 
did  you  mean  by  that?  Didn't  you  know  me?" 

She  looked  down  and  away  from  him  as  if  abashed. 

"Of  course,  I  knew  you  were  Mr.  Berenger,  but  we 
were  never  introduced." 

"And  I  offended  you,  when  we  first  met — that  day 
at  El  Correo?  Wasn't  that  true?" 

"Yes,"  with  drooping  eyelids. 

"And  you've  laid  it  up  against  me  all  these  years, 
and  would  never  allow  me  to  get  near  enough  to  apolo 
gize  or  try  to  make  it  up." 

Felicia  was  twisting  her  handkerchief. 

"And  you  don't  half-way  think  you're  right  in  talk 
ing  to  me  now: — you  have  not  forgiven  me." 

"Forgiven  you?"  looking  up  quickly.  "I  have.  I 
felt  badly  at  first  until  I  thought  it  over,  and  then  I 
excused  you — I  thought  it  was  my  fault  somehow.  I 
was  staring,  and  it  was  something  you  saw  in  my  face. 
I  am  sorry  you  cared  about  it,  and  you  need  never  think 
of  it  again.  I  accept  your  friendship  with — with — 
Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean!  I  am  glad  to  have  you 
for  my  friend.  They  are  forming  for  another  qua 
drille,  and  it  is  our  dance."  She  arose  and  stood  wait 
ing,  as  if  expecting  him  to  rise  also ;  as  he  did  not,  she 
repeated : — "I  am  so  glad  it  is  not  the  other  way — that 
you  like  me."  He  wanted  to  kiss  her. 

"Come  back  and  sit  down,"  he  said,  strongly  af 
fected.  "You  know  we  are  to  sit  out  this  dance:  We 
are  going  to  get  acquainted." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  159 

She  turned  with  a  pretty  air  of  shyness — a  look  of 
puzzled  inquiry — hesitating  for  a  moment  or  two; 
then  taking  her  place,  said  with  a  little  laugh. 

"Acquainted?  We  will.  But  we  must  never  speak 
of  our  quarrel.  It  came  near  being  a  fight — didn't  it?" 
There  was  a  caress  in  voice  and  manner. 

"I  thought  so,"  answered  Berenger,  thankful  for 
the  check  upon  impulse  by  the  presence  of  a  crowd, 
and  looking  down  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"It  was  a  battle  as  far  as  it  went.  It  was  a  strug 
gle  for  supremacy.  I  believe  I  tried  to  force  you  to 
mount  your  horse  in  a  certain  way.  Wasn't  that  how 
it  was  ?  But  there  are  other  matters  we  can  talk  about, 
and  we  need  not  speak  of  this  again ;  at  least  not  soon — 
it  can  be  deferred,  can't  it?  You  will  let  me  allude  to 
it,  won't  you?  It  was  our  first  meeting,  you  know — 
and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  it."  Felix  laughed 
joyously. 

"Seriously,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  will  never  forget  how 
nearly  you  came  to  being  murdered  the  same  evening," 
for  a  moment  taking  her  hand  and  pressing  it.  "You 
could  never  imagine  how  I  would  have  felt  if  you  had 
been  less  fortunate.  I  had  wounded  your  feelings, 
and—" 

"Don't  mind  it,"  she  hurriedly  interrupted.  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  the  Indians ;  I  know  you  have  heard 
of  it,  but  everyone  prefers  to  have  the  accounts  of  the 
actors  and  eye-witnesses  of  such  scenes."  After  giv 
ing  the  particulars,  she  added : 

"I  was  intensely  excited,  but  not  afraid  of  being 
hurt  until  struck  with  the  lasso.  Then  I  fell  into  such 
a  rage,  that  I  thought  about  it  afterwards  and  won 
dered  if  I  were  not  a  real  savage;  and  if  not,  I  won 
dered  wherein  the  difference  might  be.  Basil  has  al 
ways  tried  to  force  me  to  carry  a  pistol — I  thought  of 
it,  and  knew  that  if  I  had  one,  I  would  stop  and  use  it. 


160  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

I  wished  for  it.  For  a  few  moments  I  did  not  see  a 
single  chance  for  us  to  escape.  I  was  to  be  killed  first, 
and  then  my  helpless  little  brother.  I  believe  anyone 
would  have  felt  the  same.  I  felt  indignant  because  I 
had  to  run.  I  do  not  say  this  boastingly — it  is  really 
true.  But  you  can  never  think  how  bad  it  was."  The 
even  tones  and  quiet  manner  of  telling  rang  true  and 
held  no  hint  of  boasting. 

"I  know  how  bad  it  was.  Some  day  I  will  tell  you 
just  how  bad  my  part  of  it  was." 

There  had  been  no  dearth  of  topics,  and  absorbed 
in  conversation,  they  had  not  thought  of  attracting 
the  attention  of  others,  and  did  not  notice  that  they 
had  been  observed  and  criticized  by  many  individuals, 
including  friends,  acquaintances,  and  strangers;  and 
by  each  in  a  way  peculiar  to  the  critic.  At  last,  Basil, 
becoming  conscious,  besides  overhearing  some  out 
spoken  comments  came  up  to  introduce  one  of  his 
friends. 

"Do  you  know,  Felix,  this  will  be  the  last  dance  be 
fore  supper.  Let  me  see  your  list."  He  glanced  up 
and  down  the  tablette,  looked  sharply  at  Berenger,  who 
was  laughing,  and  said: — "This  is  your  dance,  Cer 
vantes."  It  was  the  Elfin  waltz,  and  Stromberg  and 
Otto  were  playing. 

This  dance  over,  it  was  not  until  supper  was  an 
nounced  that  Berenger,  who  had  also  been  dancing, 
again  appeared.  He  had  been  assigned  the  pleasant 
task  of  taking  her  to  the  supper  room,  wherein  every 
one  helped  himself,  wife  or  sweetheart,  the  staff  of 
waiters  being  insufficient  for  the  throng.  They  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  get  a  seat  at  one  of  the  small  tables 
in  the  latticed  veranda,  which,  though  in  mid-winter, 
was  comfortably  warm,  and  well  lighted.  There  were 
several  of  these  small  tables — all  of  them  occupied. 
Four  other  persons  were  seated  at  another,  a  little  dis 
tance  from  these  two — who  had  kept  up  an  agreeable 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  161 

and  evidently  interesting  dialogue  from  the  time  of 
beginning  until  many  were  rising  to  go ;  among  them 
on  the  opposite  side  sat  a  near  neighbor  of  Berenger's 
— a  Mrs.  Rainey,  the  kind  of  a  person  who  seems  al 
ways  to  resent  the  perfect  happiness  of  others.  She 
said  in  a  low  voice  to  the  friend  at  her  side. 

"He  looks  like  a  lover  doesn't  he?  I  wonder  if  the 
young  lady  knows  what  we  know?"  and  giving  her 
companion  a  knowing  look,  she  said  in  a  loud  voice: — 

"I  passed  your  place  yesterday,  Mr.  Berenger — it 
will  soon  be  finished,  wil  it  not?" 

"There  is  very  little  more  to  be  done,  I  believe." 

"And  the  coming  event — is  that  near  at  hand?" 

"It  has  never  depended  upon  the  completion  of  the 
house.  I  think  I  know,  to  what  event  you  refer,  Mrs. 
Rainey,  but  I  can  not  answer  you,  positively." 

"You  have  heard  of  Mr.  Berenger's  approaching 
marriage — have  you  not,  Miss  Bathurst?"  she  asked, 
simperingly.  Berenger  frowned. 

"I  have  known  of  it  for  the  past  two  years,"  an 
swered  Felix. 

When  they  entered  the  hall  he  offered  his  arm  for 
the  promenade  and  asked  Felicia  for  the  last  dance. 
"We  will  be  partners  in  the  reel,"  said  he,  when  some 
one  claimed  her  hand  for  a  cotillion.  She  saw  however 
that  the  vivacity  which  marked  his  manner  earlier 
in  the  evening  had  left  him  and  that  he  spoke  and 
moved  mechanically  throughout  the  remainder  of  the 
entertainment.  She  attributed  this  to  a  change  in 
his  train  of  thought  caused  by  Mrs.  Rainey's  remark. 

And  now  the  old  year  1855  was  gone.  Welcome  to 
the  New  Year  and  farewell  to  the  old! 

"Come  Felix,"  said  Basil.  "We  are  going.  Do  you 
go  our  way,  Mr.  Berenger?" 

"No,  I  cross  the  river  here  and  go  up  on  the  other 
side." 

"Have  you  enjoyed  the  evening,  Basil?"  asked  Ber 
enger. 

6 


162  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"More  than  tongue  can  tell.  Aunt  Effie  take  my 
arm  it's  dark  here.  Come  Felix !  You  are  going  into 
a  rosebush,  look  out  for  thorns." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  Give  me  your  hand,  Miss 
Bathurst,  I  will  guide  you;  these  lanterns  so  low  on 
the  ground  make  us  see — rosebushes." 

The  spirited  horses  trotting  homeward  on  a  good 
road  needed  no  spurring  and  were  traveling  almost 
without  guidance. 

"Don't  begin  to  chatter,  Felix,  we'll  have  it  out  to 
morrow,  and  next  day,  or  as  long  as  it  takes  to  do  it. 
I'm  going  to  sleep." 

"Do  so,"  said  Felix,  as  he  settled  himself  for  a  nap 
on  the  front  seat. 

"Are  you  tired,  Aunt  Effie? — Rest  on  my  shoulder 
if  you  are." 

"No,  darling,  I  am  neither  tired  nor  sleepy,  I  could 
have  stayed  all  night  and  welcomed  the  New  Year  sun. 
I  have  had  a  never-to-be-forgotten  good  time.  Basil, 
you're  snoring." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I — I'm  not.  If  I  did  not  know 
that  you  loved  me — " 

The  team  needed  no  urging,  and  a  quiet  resting  upon 
the  occupants  of  the  carriage,  soon  nothing  was  heard 
but  the  rythmatic  beat  of  horse-hoofs,  the  whirr  of 
wheels  and  the  regular,  musical  creak  of  leather  har 
ness.  But  all  save  Basil,  were  wide  awake.  Yorke, 
the  driver, — thoughtfully  bending  from  side  to  side 
and  in  front — peering  into  the  darkness  to  make  sure 
of  an  even  road, — with  ever  an  underlying  thought  on 
the  brace  of  revolvers  under  his  seat.  Felicia  and  Miss 
Boling — thinking. 

The  feeling  of  extasy  which  possessed  Felicia  after 
her  reconciliation  with  Berenger,  had  been  kept  within 
bounds  by  the  self-control  of  a  life-long  training;  and 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  163 

the  shock  produced  by  Mrs.  Rainey's  remarks  at  the 
supper  table,  had  brought  her  to  herself  and  to  reality. 
Looking  in  the  face  of  truth — she  could  see  no  change, 
which,  in  any  way  warranted  the  extreme  exultation 
which  had  lasted  so  many  hours.  She  had  gained  a 
friend,  instead  of  a  sort  of  half-way  acquaintance: — 
a  friend — no  better  than  the  many  she  had  met  daily 
all  her  life ; — one  who  had  tired  of  her  companionship, 
as  soon  as  his  thoughts  were  turned  into  another  chan 
nel  by  a  chance  remark  of  a  neighbor.  Miss  Boling's 
meditations  were  the  result  of  far  different  conclus 
ions — and  run  in  a  contrary  direction.  Gifted  with 
powers  of  the  keenest  perception,  and  with  the  habit  of 
close  observation,  she  had  in  her  many  years  of  experi 
ence,  learned  to  know  what  a  love-lit  face  was  like — 
and  she  had  seen  two  of  them  this  evening ;  neither  one 
of  them, — the  cause  being  considered,  having  any 
right  to  such  illumination. 

For  one  of  them,  at  least,  she  feared  what  the  future 
might  have  in  store.  One  whose  nature  she  understood 
as  well  as  she  did  her  own — the  simple  steadfast  con 
stancy  of  it ;  the  strength  and  depth  of  its  affections — 
either  as  friend,  sister  or  daughter — so  lasting  as  not 
to  be  ended  by  death  or  barred  by  the  tomb.  She  was 
afraid: — and  chilled: — and  shuddering — drew  her 
cloak  about  her,  resolving  to  be  more  watchful  than 
ever  before — if  she  failed  to  do  any  good — she  would 
at  least  try.  She  would  be  guided  by  whatever  might 
come  up  hereafter;  she  had  never  done  much  for  her 
self,  she  reasoned, — and  in  such  matters  a  third  person 
can  do  less.  If  Felicia  were  only  a  little  more  like  those 
of  her  age: — but  then — she  wouldn't  be  Felicia. 

The  next  day  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  was  taken  up 
in  detailed  descriptions  of  the  people  at  the  ball.  Their 
dress,  speech,  their  actions — their  manners  and  their 
mannerisms.  There  was  nothing  which  had  escaped 
Miss  Boling's  shrewd  inspection,  either  above  or  below 
the  surface.  Andrea  was  the  best  of  listerners.  It 
was  being  done  for  her  benefit.  She  enjoyed  it. 


164  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


"Basil,  Miss  Boling,  and  Felicia  have  each  given  a 
rare  account  of  this  curious  house-warming,  but  I  have 
not  heard  from  you,"  said  Paul.  "Give  us  a  young 
man's  view  of  it;  and  begin  by  naming  the  prettiest 
girl  present — you  were  surely  not  so  dull  as  to  miss 
her.  You  took  part  in  the  dance,  did  you  not?" 

"Yes  and  waltzed  with  her: — there  were  three  of 
them; — they  are  Spanish  and  they  were  all  dressed 
alike  and  looked  alike: — they  wore  something  thin, 
in  dark  red,  with  black  and  gold  trimming — and  flash 
ing  jewels.  They  are  cousins — their  names,  two  of 
them  being  sisters,  are  Garza  and  Cervantes, — their 
brother  and  cousin,  Ramon  Cervantes,  came  with  them 
from  a  distance; — their  servants  were  camping  in 
tents  in  the  Mexican  quarters  at  the  ranch.  I  think 
they  were  the  prettiest  girls  at  the  ball: — Aunt  Effie 
says  that  everybody  else  thought  Felix  was  the  most 
beautiful, — but  I'm  used  to  her, — and  she  doesn't 
count.  There  were  many  others: — and  mother,  you 
ought  to  have  seen  Aunt  Effie  in  evening  clothes: — 
she  looked  regal — with  her  gold  and  jet  jewels,  her 
pretty  lace  and  her  black  satin  train — " 

"Demi-train,"  amended  Miss  Boling. 

"Demi-train — and  there  was  no  one  who  out-looked 
her." 

"Out-shined — you  mean,"  said  Daisy. 
"Yes; — nobody  out-shone  Miss  Boling." 

"Your  first  word  was  the  correct  one,  Basil,  for  I'm 
quite  sure  no  one  out-looked  me ; — not  one  in  the  whole 
assembly.  I  saw  everything ; — and  I  must  say — it  was 
the  wildest,  prettiest,  most  hospitable  and  agreeable 
entertainment,  I  ever  witnessed  or  took  part  in." 

Being  near  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the 
L.  K.  party  reached  home,  Felicia  overcome  with 
drowsiness,  had  quickly  fallen  asleep.  Waking  at  her 
usual  hour,  the  events  of  the  preceding  evening  were 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  165 

again  recalled  and  reviewed  dispassionately.  "There 
is  no  use  in  feeling  either  elated  or  depressed,"  she  told 
herself.  "Except  that  I  have  gained  a  friend — one  I 
prefer  to  all  others — everything  is  as  it  was,  yester 
day; — but  what  a  difference  that  makes!"  She  was 
convinced  of  the  honesty  of  his  apology  by  the  manner 
of  it;  feeling  not  a  little  ashamed  of  herself  for  mis 
judging  him.  She  also  remembered  that  there  had  also 
been  a  hint  of  expostulation  and  anger  in  his  tone, 
when  he  first  began  to  speak,  as  though  he  were  in 
clined  to  find  fault  with  her.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
quality  which  most  convinced  her  of  his  sincerity.  "But 
I  will  trouble  about  it  no  longer,  I  will  let  it  go  with 
the  old  year." 


"Now  that  we  are  alone,  Mrs.  Bathurst, — "  said 
Miss  Euphemia  to  Andrea,  the  same  evening, — "I  want 
to  ask  you  when  'Felicia  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Berenger." 

"When?  I  do  not  think  she  knows  him  well,  since  I 
reflect  upon  it ;  but  she  met  him  a  short  time  after  we 
came  to  live  here,"  said  Andrea.  "Yet,  I  believe  they 
were  never  introduced  until  last  night.  Why,  Miss 
Boling?" 

"I  saw  the  introduction  and  they  seemed  to  have 
met  before — to  have  been  acquainted.  I  was  not  near 
enough  to  hear  what  he  said;  but  he  looked  to  be  re 
monstrating  with,  or  teasing  Felicia,  as  though  he 
might  have  been  an  old  friend ;  and  his  appearance  and 
actions  showed  something  more  than  friendship." 
Miss  Boling  had  distinctly  in  mind  the  scene  at  Beth 
lehem. 

"There  was  something  happened  when  they  first 
met,  which  Felicia  took  very  much  to  heart,"  said  An 
drea,  laughing  at  the  recollection  of  Felicia's  discom 
fiture.  "And  it  is  quite  likely,  she  tried  to  keep  clear 


166  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

of  him  afterwards.  I  am  sure  it  was  due  to  the 
thoughtlessness  of  gay  temperament  and  a  misconcep 
tion  as  to  the  age  of  Felicia,  who  at  that  time,  espec 
ially  in  riding-dress,  looked  very  like  a  child." 

Andrea  gave  a  description  of  the  scene  and  added 
that  the  child's  feelings  were  deeply  wounded  and  that 
she  felt  it  a  punishment  for  staring?" 

"He  ought  to  have  had  his  ears  boxed,"  was  the  un 
hesitating  verdict.  "But  he  has  changed  front  since 
that  time,  judging  by  his  conduct  last  night  for  if  I  did 
not  know  of  his  engagement,  I  would  say  he  had  found 
his  mate  or  thought  he  had.  His  looks  and  actions  were 
lover-like,  and  very  different  from  what  they  ought  to 
be,  coming  from  a  man  whose  matrimonial  prospects 
have  been  public  property  for  years.  It  was  the  sub 
ject  of  outspoken  comment,  otherwise,  I  might  not 
have  observed  so  closely.  Otto  Hillebrand  asked  me 
if  'Felicia  and  the  English  young  man  were  engaged 
to  be  married.'  When  I  told  him  they  were  not: — he 
said: — Tm  glad — I  will  knock  him  down  and  dance 
once  again  with  her/  I  know  that  Basil  noticed  it." 

"What  did  I  notice,  Aunt  Effie?"  asked  Basil,  tak 
ing  a  seat  beside  her." 

"The  manner  of  Mr.  Berenger's  attentions  to 
Felicia." 

"I  would  think  so.  A  blind  man  would  have  noticed 
it.  It  was  out  of  taste.  It  interfered  with  the  com 
fort  of  others.  I  was  vexed  with  Felix,  but  she  didn't 
know  any  better.  That  was  the  rose-bush  I  flung  at 
her  when  we  were  comin'  down  the  walk.  It  wasn't 
there — they  were  all  phlox  and  syringa  bushes." 

"I'm  glad  you  took  note,  I  don't  want  to  be  the  only 
busybody." 

"You  aren't.  Everybody  about  me  was  referring  to 
it.  One  fellow  said  Berenger  was  trying  to  keep  all 
the  single  men  from  dancing  with  Miss  Bathurst,  that 
he  had  already  sat  out  two  or  three  dances." 

"Why  did  not  you,  Basil,  speak  to  your  sister ;  a  hint 
would  have  been  sufficient." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  167 

"It  was  all  right,  mother,  as  far  as  she  was  con 
cerned.  Anybody  could  see  she  didn't  know  what  he 
was  about,  but  he  was  enjoying  it  immensely,  espec 
ially  its  effect  upon  others.  Cervantes  asked  me  to 
make  him  known  to  my  sister  for  a  cotillion — I  took 
him  along  and  introduced  him.  When  he  asked  for  a 
dance,  Berenger  answered  saying,  that  Miss  Bathurst's 
card  was  full — every  dance  taken — I  said  'Nonsense!' 
and  took  it  from  Felix  and  found  his  name  all  through. 
I  told  Cervantes  the  next  dance  was  his.  I  wanted 
Felix  to  know  him  and  also  his  cousin  and  sister,  be 
cause  they  speak  the  best  Spanish,  and  as  we  are  both 
studying — they  English — and  we  Spanish — we  can 
visit  time  about  and  make  better  progress.  They  be 
long  to  the  old  Canary  Island  Colonists — that  is  they 
are  descended  from  them.  Their  ancestors  came  to 
Texas  when  it  was  under  Spanish  rule.  They  have  a 
half-dozen  ranches,  with  good  hunting  round  about  all 
of  them,  and  the  young  man  invited  me  to  hunt  with 
him  on  the  Rio  Grande. 

"Berenger  took  it  all  in  good  part  and  was  on  hand 
when  the  waltz  was  over.  There  is  nobody  I  would  like 
better  for  a  brother-in-law,  but  he  had  better  stick  to 
his  integrity ;  even  if  he  has  drawn  the  wrong  bean,  as 
some  think  he  has.  I  didn't  think  you  noticed  that, 
Aunt  Effie,  but  I  intended  to  tell  mother  to  caution 
Felix." 

Miss  Boling  felt  greatly  relieved  that  at  least  the 
danger,  real  or  imaginary,  was  known  to  the  family. 
She  now  understood  and  thoroughly  approved  of  Fe 
licia's  behaviour  at  Bethlehem. 


"Felicia,"  said  Andrea,  when  next  they  were  alone 
together,  "Miss  Boling  and  Basil  think  Mr.  Berenger 
showed  too  much  partiality  in  his  attention  to  you  at 
Mrs.  Crompton's  on  New  Year's  night." 


168  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Do  they,  mother?  Then  they  are  mislead  by  ap 
pearances.  I  have  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  tell 
you  about  it,  for  I  did  not  want  any  one  else  to  know. 
Mrs.  Peyton  introduced  him,  and  he  began  almost  at 
once  to  talk  about  our  first  meeting  and  the  trouble 
that  came  of  it,"  said  'Felix,  giving  her  mother  an  ac 
count  in  detail  of  what  had  passed  between  them. 

"At  first  he  was  a  little  sarcastic,  and  inclined  to 
banter,  and  we  came  near  to  having  another  difference. 
But,  mother,  he  was  really  sorry  and  now  we  are 
friends.  A  great  deal  of  talking  was  necessary  to  bring 
this  about  and  it  may  have  seemed  to  be  confidential 
to  onlookers,  but  there  was  no  partiality  shown : — and 
nothing  to  indicate  it  to  one  that  understood." 

Her  father  coming  into  the  room — Felicia  said : 

"Mother,  you  may  tell  father  all  about  this — it  is  no 
longer  painful  to  me." 

"Your  mother  gave  me  an  account  of  it — Berenger's 
indiscretion  isn't  it — "  (Felicia  nodded.) — "a  great 
while  ago — about  the  time  it  happened." 

Pausing — he  laughed  a  little  at  her  earnestness. 

"He  is  a  gay  fellow,  but  he  means  no  harm."  Then 
gravely  adding: 

"But  Felicia  be  careful.  Miss  Euphemia  did  not  like 
his  manner.  You  must  be  circumspect  and  not  do  any 
thing  to  cause  gossip.  He  has  made  no  secret  of  his 
engagement,  and  any  intimacy  between  you  would  be 
construed  to  your  disadvantage." 

"Although  young,  he  is  a  man  of  the  world,  and  be 
longs  to  a  class  whose  standpoint  in  morals  and  re 
ligion  differs  from  ours — albeit  members  of  the  same 
church, — as  the  city  differs  from  the  country.  Some 
thing  that  can  hardly  be  understood  by  one  so  young 
as  yourself.  But  I  do  not  think  I  care  for  you  to  com 
prehend  it — or  to  be  different  from  what  you  are. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  169 


CHAPTER    XII. 

When  at  the  Crompton's  ball  on  New  Year's  Eve, 
Hector  M'Call  having  been  hurriedly  called  to  the  bed 
side  of  a  patient,  left  his  sisters,  Anna  and  Jean,  in 
the  care  of  Larry  Houghton — their  home  being  on  the 
road  which  led  directly  to  his  own,  two  miles  further 
away,  they  were  to  wait  at  Compton's  until  one  o'clock ; 
at  which  time  if  he  had  failed  to  return,  Larry  was  to 
take  his  place  as  escort.  The  young  ladies  at  home, 
the  carriage  must  be  sent  immediately  to  the  house  of 
his  patient  for  the  doctor  would  be  very  tired.  He 
did  not  return,  and  Larry  refusing  to  stay  all  night, 
proceeded  to  walk  the  remaining  two  miles. 

"They  are  good  to  themselves  alone" — he  said,  as 
he  plodded  along  with  his  patent  leather  dancing  shoes 
full  of  sand.  "But  what  else  can  be  expected  from  a 
lot  of  old  bachelors  and  old  maids." 

When  he  came  to  Berenger's — tired  out  and  sleepy, 
he  stopped;  and  that  is  how  he  came  to  know  what 
many  only  guessed.  "Can  you  give  me  a  bed?"  said 
the  exhausted  traveler,  throwing  himself  into  the 
nearest  chair. 

"I  can — and  a  separate  one.  My  housekeeping  is 
improving  by  stages,  I  believe  we  slept  together  when 
you  were  here  last." 

"Your  housekeeping  will  soon  reach  its  last  and  best 
stage,  will  it  not?  What  a  lucky  man  you  are!  For 
tune  showers  her  gifts  upon  you,  regardless.  But  I 
am  surprised  that  the  final  step  has  been  so  long  post 
poned;  I  thought  it  would  have  taken  place  a  couple 
of  years  ago,"  said  Larry,  who  had  reasons  of  his 
own  for  wishing  it  had. 


170  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"I  am  glad  you  have  mentioned  the  subject;  I  had 
just  finished  writing  my  father  a  letter  on  the  same 
topic  when  you  came  in.  I  find  myself  less  and  less 
willing  to  take  the  'final  step.'  And  if  fortune  had 
behaved  as  you  think  she  has — in  a  business  way  at 
least — I  would  have  broken  a  few  of  my  chains  long 
ago.  Gifts !  She  doesn't  even  give  me  wages !  I  have 
only  that  part  of  the  income  from  this  property  and 
that  on  the  San  Antonio  river,  which  may  be  left  when 
the  running  expenses  have  been  paid.  I  have  other 
complaints  to  make.  I  am  thinking  of  breaking  off 
my  engagement." 

Larry  was  aghast — and  for  some  minutes  sat  silent. 

"But  this  house?  The  fields  and  pasture  lands  that 
go  with  it — will  not  these  come  to  you  when  you 
marry?" 

"Not  if  I  marry  the  lady  of  my  choice — I'm  afraid." 

"I  believe  I  know  the  lady  of  your  choice,  and  every 
one  else  at  the  ball  to-night  must  have  guessed  it.  I 
do  not  see  how  with  any  show  of  honour,  you  can  break 
away  after  all  the  publicity  given  to  it;  unless  the 
lady —  What  does  Miss  Proctor  say?  Or  have  you 
got  to  her  yet?" 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  all,  as  long  as  I've  said  this 
much.  She  does  not  say  what  I  would  say  in  answer 
to  such  letters  as  I  write.  But  it  may  be  she  doesn't 
understand.  I  have  said  and  done  everything  I  can 
think  of  to  procure  a  dismissal,  but  have  only  been 
successful  in  postponing  it.  I  am  thinking  of  a  change 
in  tactics.  Can't  you  help  me  with  an  idea  or  a  sug 
gestion." 

"No.    I've  never  had  to  maneuver  for  a  dismissal." 

"You  are  all  against  me,  I'm  afraid."  Berenger 
stopped — slightly  embarrrassed  for  a  moment  or  two 
— then  continued:  "Larry,  I'm  not  ruffling  your 
feathers,  am  I?  Have  you  still  any  hopes  of  expecta 
tions  connected  with  that  young  person?  I  will  not 
be  interfering,  will  I?" 


171 


"No.  I  have  neither  hopes  nor  expectations;  that 
young  person  settled  them  all — permanently,  for  all 
time — many  months  ago.  We  will  not  be  rivals.  But 
pull  out  of  it,  Archie.  You  are  making  a  mistake. 
You've  done  what  you  were  sent  here  to  do.  You've 
proved  yourself  to  be  a  fine  business  man  and  an  un 
common  good  boy;  and  if,  as  you  have  told  me,  your 
wife  will  bring  you  a  small  fortune  at  beginning,  with 
the  prospect  of  another  in  the  future,  it  really  seems 
to  me  that  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  doing  or 
what  you  want." 

"My  dear  friend,  there  never  was  a  man  who  knew 
better.  There  is  always  a  good  fish  in  the  sea  for  men 
like  you — if  you  fail  to  catch  one,  another  will  do.  But 
I  want  my  mate.  You  have  never  before  heard  me  say 
I  loved  a  woman,  and  you  have  known  me  for  five 
years.  I  think  you  will  give  me  credit  for  a  touch  of 
honour  and  some  kind  of  a  conscience,  when  I  tell  you 
that  from  first  sight  of  her,  Felix  Bathurst  has  never 
been  out  of  my  thoughts  for  an  hour,  unless  when 
asleep.  I  have  been  avoided  and  kept  at  a  distance,  it 
is  true,  but  I  have  always  known  that  I  could  have 
opened  a  way  to  a  closer  acquaintance  as  I  did  to 
night.  This  abstinence  is  due  to  a  sense  of  filial 
duty — and  also,  though  in  a  lesser  degree  to  a  sense  of 
honour. 

"I  have  thought  there  was  another  cause  for  it ;  until 
to-night  I  have  always  believed  she  disliked  you;  that 
you  offended  her  the  day  she  came  to  the  commisariat 
at  El  Correo." 

Berenger,  standing  before  the  fire  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  was  laughing  at  the  memory  of  it. 

"Our  first  meeting — how  funny  it  was !  There  was 
a  little  of  everything  to  be  found  in  it — the  joy  of  a 
sudden  discovery — the  unbridled  rapture  and  rever,en- 
tial  adoration — like  a  child,  or  Eve  when  she  first  saw 


172  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Adam.  There  was  a  misconception  of  character  on 
the  part  of  both  that  caused  the  trouble — I  taking  her 
to  be  very  young  and  a  romp,  and  she  making  a  much 
greater  mistake  about  me." 

"An  undeserved  tribute  in  this  case — in  almost  any 
case  of  the  same  kind — don't  you  think?" 

"It  was  one,  which  if  not  at  the  moment  recognized, 
was  afterwards  appreciated  at  its  full  value,"  said 
Archie,  gravely.  "For  never  was  a  light  fault  more 
heavily  punished.  I  have  been  living  under  a  ban  ever 
since,  until  to-night,  when  I  had  to  steal  up  under 
cover.  It  was  like  stalking  deer;  but  it  pays.  I  knew 
when  I  touched  her  hand  that  I  had  never  before  loved 
a  woman.  There  is  no  use  in  dwelling  upon  my  fine 
prospects.  I  am  willing  to  give  up  my  last  picayune 
and  get  down  to  the  ground." 

"Put  Miss  Bathurst  in  a  jacal  with  a  dirt  floor  and 
turn  vaquero." 

"Oh,  no,  not  so  bad  as  that.  I  could  take  care  of  her 
from  the  beginning.  Don't  vex  yourself  about  that. 
She,  herself,  will  not  be  a  pauper,  and  I  see  profit 
ahead  in  these  government  contracts;  and  besides, 
there  is  Tabor's  offer  which  if  accepted  would  put  me 
on  my  feet  at  once." 

"Well,  which  ever  way  it  goes  you  have  my  best 
wishes,"  said  Larry  sleepily.  "You  speak  like  a  man 
sure  of  his  ground,  but  don't  show  it  so  plainly.  You 
forgot  you  were  at  a  country  ball  where  everybody's 
business  is  his  neighbor's.  Monroe,  ranking  you  with 
the  Benedicts,  said  you  were  trying  to  keep  the  single 
men  from  dancing  with  Miss  Bathurst.  It  may  have 
been  a  good  joke  on  the  single  men,  but  it  was  hardly 
fair  to  the  young  lady — for  the  women  who  might  want 
to  dance  with  Mr.  Berenger,  would  have  something  to 
say ;  and  that  means  that  the  brunt  of  the  blame  would 
fall  on  Felix." 

"I  am  innocent  of  all  intention  of  joking,  and 
thought  nothing  of  the  effect  of  anything  I  did,  and  do 
not  believe  the  consequences  will  be  serious." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  173 

The  evening  had  been  full  of  surprises.  In  the  first 
months  following  their  misunderstanding,  Berenger 
was  inclined  to  believe  Felicia's  conduct  to  be  the  out 
growth  of  an  obstinate  or  shrewish  temper;  but  her 
universal  popularity  contradicted  this.  Later  he  called 
to  mind  the  proud  beauty  of  the  grave,  angry  eyes 
when  she  bade  him  let  go  her  bridle  reins,  deciding 
that  the  temper  shown  here  was  not  of  the  kind  which 
resulted  in  childish  petulance,  but  that  she  had  in  her 
ignorance  of  the  world  put  th,e  worst  construction  upon 
his  thoughtlessness;  and  when  at  Bethlehem,  she  left 
her  seat  by  his  side,  he  took  the  act  to  be  the  outcome 
of  an  incontrolable  antipathy  or  perhaps  actual  dislike: 
Her  singular  prettiness  had  instantly  taken  hold  of 
him;  her  very  evident  admiration  had  flattered  him, 
and  with  it  all  there  was  a  curious  feeling  that  this 
immature  young  stranger  would  one  day  be  his  wife; 
that  he  could  never  again  so  consider  another.  He 
would  have  been  content  with  her  exquisite  outward 
beauty  though  accompanied  as  he  had  at  first  sup 
posed,  by  a  haughty  temper;  but  to-night  her  earnest 
ness  and  sweet  simplicity  of  character  were  a  surprise 
to  him,  and  there  was  a  pathetic  note  in  her  acceptance 
of  his  friendship  which  touched  his  heart;  there  was 
within  it  all  the  delight  of  a  child  who  receives  an  un 
expected  honour  or  commendation  from  a  superior; 
but  showing  above  this  was  a  woman's  recognition  of 
the  supremacy  of  man.  He  recalled  her  words — her 
expression  and  manner  in  repeating  them — again  and 
again.  What  was  it  he  "saw  in  her  face?" 

"Like  her?"  She  had  long  passed  that  stage  in  his 
affection,  and  he  saw  that  in  her  face  which  would 
forever  make  the  man  of  him  he  had  always  hoped  to 
be.  He  knew  that  in  Mrs.  Peyton's  presence  as  act 
ing  hostess,  she  would  not  refuse  to  dance  with  him, 
for  she  was  well-bred.  In  all  her  previous  avoidance 
of  him  she  had  violated  no  rule  of  propriety.  He  had 
learned  all  he  wished  or  cared  to  know  and  had  written 
his  letter. 


174  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

It  was  a  full  explanation  of  everything  relating  to 
his  trouble.  It  gave  a  proper  description  of  Miss 
Bathurst.  Her  amiable  traits  of  character,  her  accom 
plishments  and  her  great  beauty,  and  included  a  state 
ment  in  regard  to  the  standing  of  her  family.  It  ended 
with  a  request  that  his  father  would  think  the  matter 
over  well  before  deciding  what  was  best.  Assuring 
him  that  he  would  proceed  no  further  until  his  will 
was  known. 

Following  this  was  an  account  in  detail  of  all  busi 
ness  affairs  which  referring  as  it  did  to  a  proposed 
sale  of  a  large  property,  covered  many  pages. 

It  would  be  fifteen  days  or  more  before  an  answer 
might  be  looked  for.  He  had  bound  himself  only  so  far 
as  to  take  no  steps  until  after  he  would  have  received  a 
reply  to  this  letter,  but  the  nature  of  his  next  move 
ment  afterwards,  he  had  not  yet  determined.  Though 
he  felt  that  submission  to  what  he  knew  would  be  his 
father's  will,  would  hereafter  be  in  business  matters 
only,  it  might  be  that  he  would  also  throw  off  this 
with  other  shackles,  which  had  long  been  too  galling 
to  be  endured.  He  had  found  himself  hampered  by 
his  father's  methods  in  business.  Managing  an  in 
herited  fortune  successfully,  he  knew  not  how  to  take 
advantage  of  the  short  roads  to  wealth  always  to 
be  found  in  a  prosperous  new  country.  As  it  was  now 
he  was  simply  his  father's  agent  with  power  only  to 
carry  out  his  instructions. 

Not  gifted  with  Miss  Boling's  fine  intuitive  percep 
tion,  he  was  by  no  means  certain  of  Felicia.  He  had 
found  that  the  training  of  a  man  about  town,  or  it 
might  better  he  said  a  man  of  the  world,  had  not  given 
him  the  right  to  look  upon  her  as  a  simple  country 
girl;  she  was,  it  is  true,  simple  as  a  child  in  many 
things;  but  she  was  more,  and  had  "brought  him  up 
standing"  many  times  with  her  ready,  straightforward 
questions  and  replies.  No,  he  was  not  sure,  but  he 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  175 

would  see.  There  were  to  be  entertainments  to  which 
they  would  both  be  invited,  and  besides  they  would 
meet  at  church.  If  he  should  find  that  she  loved  him? 
He  knew  that  all  must  give  way  before  that.  He  would 
be  patient;  there  was  much  to  do.  He  had  also  cer 
tain  unformed  plans  to  put  in  shape.  Fifteen  days  was 
not  a  long  time,  and  there  was  much  to  make  the  in 
terval  one  of  interest.  It  was  a  month  before  the  an 
swer  came. 


Although  nine  out  of  ten  Virginians  coming  to 
Texas  about  this  time  were  Episcopalians,  hitherto 
their  numbers  did  not  warrant  the  building  of  a 
church,  and  there  were  few  clergymen  of  that  denomi 
nation.  These  usually  held  services  in  unoccupied 
dwellings  or  other  vacant  buildings,  or  at  odd  times  in 
school  houses  used  by  other  denominations.  One  clergy 
man  used  his  own  parlour  for  many  months  for  that 
purpose.  As  a  matter  of  course  pews  and  their  uses 
were  either  unknown  or  disapproved  by  a  people,  the 
majority  of  whom  held  such  stern  Calvinistic  views  of 
whatever  savored  of  ritualism — believing  that  the  out 
side  form  and  inner  architectural  adornment  of 
churches  in  which  such  methods  of  Divine  service  pre 
vailed,  were  things  as  much  to  be  avoided  as  sin  it 
self.  Many  of  the  early  settlers  living  around  these 
school-houses  had  never  known  any  other  kind  of  tem 
ple  in  which  to  serve  the  Lord.  The  teacher's  seat  and 
desk  on  a  slightly  raised  platform,  was  the  pulpit  on 
Sundays  and  other  meeting  days.  It  was  also  used 
by  the  speaker  at  political  gatherings.  The  plainer  the 
better.  It  was  not  only  the  untaught  and  ignorant  who 
thus  believed,  but  often  persons  of  fair  education  and 
some  culture  were  disciples  of  such  simplicity;  believ 
ing  also  that  any  adornment  of  wall,  pulpit,  pews  or 
ceiling  to  be  nearly  as  sinful  as  the  organ  and  its 
music — a  musical  instrument  having  the  power  to  con- 


176  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

vert  the  most  sacred  anthem  into  a  delusion  and  snare 
of  the  Devil.  As  to  the  more  ignorant — they  had  heard 
that  such  grandeur  existed  in  the  old  world — and  of 
the  misery  that  had  been  wrought  upon  their  fore 
bears  by  the  people  who  had  belonged  to  these  pompous 
churches,  and  who  had  in  the  name  of  Christianity  op 
pressed  the  poor  and  driven  them  to  take  refuge  across 
the  ocean.  None  but  the  Catholic,  Episcopalian,  and 
the  ultra  aristocratic  of  their  own  Presbyterian,  Bap 
tist  or  Methodist  churches,  ever  had  pews — wherein 
the  men,  women  and  children  sat  together.  With  peo 
ple  of  this  class,  it  was  an  unwritten  law  that  men 
and  women  should  sit  on  opposite  sides  of  the  church. 
It  was  an  act  of  impropriety  when  violated.  A  dis 
regard  of  the  known  decree  of  a  large  majority.  And 
if,  as  told  before  Mr.  Berenger  had  caused  surprise  and 
criticism  on  the  first  Sunday  in  January,  1856,  when 
he  passed  over  the  gentlemen's  section  of  the  house  of 
Bethlehem  and  sat  down  on  the  women's  side ;  he  now 
not  only  had  increased  the  displeasure  of  the  Bethle- 
hemites  to  double  its  former  volume,  but  laid  himself 
open  to  public  rebuke.  For  on  the  several  consecutive 
Sundays  in  the  same  month,  he  had  repeated  his  of 
fense  by  sitting  with  the  ladies  of  the  Little  Kosta 
Ranch.  No  other  male  being  present  on  that  particular 
bench,  except  Basil;  who  had  well  defined  suspicions 
from  the  first.  For  of  course  there  was  a  cause  for 
this  contemptuous  disregard  of  an  arbitrary  custom, 
and  with  some  degree  of  curiosity  and  concern  in  the 
manner  of  its  effect  upon  his  sister,  he  had  decided 
to  occupy  a  post  of  observation,  which  might  help  him 
to  see  which  way  the  tide  of  public  opinion  was  mov 
ing,  and  to  steer  clear  of  breakers.  He  had  already 
found  that  the  women  or  a  part  of  them,  at  least,  were 
taking  the  lead;  their  interest  in  the  future  private 
affairs  of  Miss  Proctor,  seeming  to  have  almost 
reached  a  vital  point.  This  struck  him  in  a  quiet  way 
as  being  most  singular;  as,  if  she  were  at  all  like 
Archie,  she  might  not  even  allow  herself  to  know  them 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  177 

— much  less  invite  them  to  dinner.  There  was  no  way 
in  which  Felix  could  be  reckoned  responsible  for  this, 
nor  as  far  as  he  could  see,  was  she  conscious  of  it.  He 
would  not  have  taken  her  to  task,  if  she  had  been,  for 
since  she  had  grown  up,  he  was  a  little  bit  afraid  of 
her.  As  for  Archie,  himself — half -American — as  from 
long  residence,  he  might  justly  be  called — it  was  cer 
tain  that  he  knew  and  knowing  did  not  care.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  ruffled  about;  if  there  should  be, 
he  would  know  what  to  do.  It  was  as  he  thought — 
there  was  no  cause  for  anxiety  as  far  as  the  supposed 
delinquent  was  responsible.  It  was  now  at  the  end 
of  the  third  week  after  Berenger's  letter  to  his  father 
had  been  posted.  He  had  met  Felicia  often,  but  al 
ways  in  the  presence  of  others.  But  gossip  invents 
and  supposes,  and  the  affair  was  rapidly  assuming 
larger  proportions. 

It  was  part  and  parcel  of  his  conduct  at  the  ball. 
To  be  discussed  with  merriment,  jealousy  or  animad 
version  according  to  the  nature  of  the  gossiper.  A 
suggestion  of  trouble  in  the  matrimonial  prospect  of 
Mr.  Berenger,  was  answered  by  another — that  "per 
haps  Archie  would  like  that — for  the  preference  shown 
for  Miss  Bathurst  on  New  Year's  night  was  of  a  sort 
not  to  be  mistaken."  Some  of  his  own  too  frankly  ut 
tered  phrases  had  been  repeated,  and  Felicia  was  be 
ginning  to  share  the  blame.  One  countrywoman  noted 
for  freedom  of  speech,  said  to  a  crowd: — 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  asshorance?  It  was  bad 
when  Dr.  Winston,  that  feller  from  Washington,  set 
by  Miss  Mildred  all  winter.  But  it  was  his  own  sister 
and  his  own  little  girl — all  of  'em  delicate — an'  he 
dyin'  of  consumption.  But  I  can't  see  no  excuse  for 
this.  It's  plain  as  a  pike-staff  that  Mr.  Archie  Ber 
enger  don't  care  a  rap  for  our  rules  and  regulations." 

The  same  complaint  was  made  to  Miss  Crofts,  a  day 
or  two  later. 


178  AIvONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"But,  Mrs.  Franklin,  Mr.  Berenger  behaved  himself. 
He  didn't  crowd  anybody  out.  There  was  plenty  of 
room : — and  then  you  know  he  is  an  Episcopalian  and 
is  accustomed  to  pews  and  thought  nothing  of  it." 

"I'd  say  thought  nothin'  of  it.  He  wanted  to  git  as 
close  to  Flishy  Bathurst  as  he  possibly  could ;  but  when 
a  man  is  that  much  engaged  to  another  woman  that 
he's  got  a  house  built  for  her  and  is  goin'  to  be  mar 
ried  on  the  twenty-second  day  of  March  next, — he's 
the  same  as  married  anyhow,  and  I  think  it's  time  he 
was  settin'  to  himself." 

"He  didn't  sit  by  Felix." 

"Naw,  but  he  was  watchin'  her,  pertendin'  like  he 
wahn't  lookin'  at  her.  I  never  see'd  him  settle  down 
like  that  by  anybody  else  an'  I've  knowed  him  fer 
gwine  on  four  years  or  more.  You  bet,  it  means  some- 
thin'.  I  know  him.  Not  that  he's  ever  been  once  in 
our  house.  No  indeed !  Mr.  Berenger  ain't  got  no  use 
fer  poor  folks — not  he ; — that  is,  decent  poor-folks.  He 
can  go  buccaneering  all  over  the  country  on  them  fast 
hawses  of  his'n — ridin'  around  with  sich  cattle  as 
that  French  widder,  Mrs.  Gaultier  an'  them  good-for- 
nuthin'  Dessier  girls,  an'  goin'  with  other  young  fel 
lers  o'  the  same  sort,  to  them  wild  Polacca  dances  at 
St.  Hedwig.  But  set  down  to  a  good  dinner  in  a  house 
like  mine?  I  never  see  him  do  it!" 

"Only  yesterday,"  went  on  Mrs.  Franklin,  "my  Bob 
asked  him  to  come  in  an'  take  dinner  with  us.  I  had 
a  good  biled  vegetable  dinner.  But  no !" 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Franklin, — I  have  to  meet  a  man 
at  Crofts' — (your  father,  Susannah),  "and  I've  just 
time  to  get  there."  And  he  lifts  his  hat  and  vamoses. 
Stuck-up  peacock!" 

"Day  before  yesterday?  He  did  have  to  meet  a  man 
at  our  house — about  the  sale  of  some  land;  and  he 
missed  him  by  half  an  hour."  And  passing  over  Mrs. 
Franklin's  misuse  of  the  word  buccaneer,  Susannah 
proceeded  to  defend  the  absent. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  179 

"But  Mrs.  Franklin,  Jack  and  the  Houghtons  were 
with  him  at  the  Polish  dance,  and  Jack  said  it  was  beau 
tiful.  They  wore  peasant  costumes  and  danced  some 
national  dances.  It  was  all  very  foreign  and  pretty." 

"May  be  so;  but  that  don't  alter  the  case.  For  all 
that  it's  just  as  I  said — he  don't  take  no  middle  ground. 
He'll  go  to  Houghton's,  Dunbar's,  Peyton's  and  places 
like  them,  but  he'd  much  ruther  go  to  one  of  them  wild 
Polacky  stampedes  than  to  a  decent  afternoon  sociable 
in  a  house  like  mine,  where  ther's  no  dancin'  an' 
cavortin'  aroun'  to  German  or  nigger  music." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Franklin,  you  ought  to  attend  one  of  them. 
There  is  no  disorder,  and  being  nearly  all  of  them 
Catholic  in  religion,  they  see  no  harm  in  such  amuse 
ments." 

"That's  all  well  enough  fer  you,  Susannah,  you  bein' 
a  'Piscopalian,  but  they  ain't  no  good  goin'  to  grow 
out  of  this  ball  goin',  by  them  that  don't  belong  to  such 
a  free  church,  and  two  or  three  of  them  girls  that  went 
and  danced,  or  tried  to,  at  the  Compton's  New  Year 
blow-out,  would  of  been  turned  out  of  church  if  Parson 
M'Cauley  hadn't  been  so  obleegin'  about  it — callin'  it  a 
youthful  indiscretion — and  that  after  him  and  her  both 
had  done  their  level  best  to  lead  all  the  young  people 
in  the  county  into  goin'  to  it.  He  wouldn't  a'  tried  so 
hard  to  keep  the  others  from  bein'  turned  out  if  Marion 
hadn't  a'  been  one  of  'em." 

"My  girls  was  invited,  and  Bob  said  let  'em  go,  bein' 
that  Mrs.  M'Cauley  had  said  it  wouldn't  be  any  harm 
to  jest  go  an'  look  on.  Look  on,  ses  I — Not  one  step! 
I  was  over  there  the  day  before,  an'  bless  yo'  life  I 
never  did  see  such  fixin's.  Mrs.  M'Cauley  was  that 
f inickin'  for  fear  Marion  wouldn't  be  dressed  in  good 
evenin'  style,  that  she  went  up  to  Paul  Bathurst's  and 
got  the  school  teacher  to  fit  the  lining  of  a  white  silk 
tissue  frock  for  her.  It's  easy  to  see  what  she's  aimin' 
at.  She's  pintin'  her  ammunition  at  that  red-headed 


180  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Bathurst  and  them  Peyton  boys.  But  it's  in  my  mind 
that  she'll  miss  her  mark  and  find  out  what  a  middle- 
aged  indiscretion  can  do.  Marion  is  twenty-three  if 
she's  a  day  and  the  other  two  is  borderin'  on  thirty, 
an'  ought  to've  given  up  long  ago." 

"Good  bye,  Mrs.  Franklin,  I  have  a  whole  day's  sew 
ing  before  me." 

"Tell  your  ma  she  needn't  have  been  in  sich  a  hurry 
about  the  carpet — and  to  come  to  my  end  of  the  table 
at  the  Saturday  basket  meeting,"  but  iSusannah  was 
already  out  of  the  gate  and  walking  rapidly  down  the 
road. 

"I  wonder  what  made  her  hike  off  like  that.  Mebbe 
I  did  talk  too  much,"  said  Mrs.  Franklin — standing  in 
the  doorway  looking  after  her.  "She  always  ups  an' 
runs  when  a  body  gits  to  tattlin'.  Well  she's  a  good 
girl  anyhow,  if  she  has  got  a  name  like  a  nigger  song." 

This  was  Monday.  Susannah  hurried  home  and  at 
once  took  up  her  sewing;  stopping  only  to  assist  her 
mother  in  preparing  the  noonday  meal,  she  worked  in 
dustriously  until  four  o'clock,  and  was  now  sitting  idly 
by  the  window  of  their  little  parlour.  The  Crofts  lived 
below,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  from  the 
store  of  Meyer  &  Southwell,  in  whose  building  was  the 
postoffice.  This  window  commanded  a  view  of  the 
front  entrance ;  this  was  the  busiest  hour  for  shopping 
and  many  were  coming  for  mail.  Amongst  others 
Susannah  saw  Archie  Berenger  ride  up,  dismount  and 
enter  the  store.  His  appearance  there  recalled  the 
tattle  of  Mrs.  Franklin,  which  in  the  hurry  of  the  day's 
work  had  been  banished  from  her  mind.  With  this 
return  came  other  recollections  of  a  more  serious 
nature.  On  the  preceding  Saturday,  Mrs.  Dunbar,  a 
totally  different  person  from  Mrs.  Franklin,  had  made 
known  in  plain  words  her  ideas  on  the  subject  at  pres 
ent  under  discussion,  and  in  terms  of  far  more  unchar 
itable  significance  than  were  ever  heard  from  her  more 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  181 

humble  sister  in  the  church.  After  turning  the  matter 
over  in  her  mind,  Susannah  had  on  the  same  evening 
asked  her  mother  if  it  would  not  be  best  to  warn 
Felix  of  this  growing  gossip  that  so  nearly  approached 
scandal ;  and  which  coming  from  Mrs.  Dunbar,  carried 
a  weight  and  attracted  a  notice  that  could  never  attach 
to  the  idle  chattering  of  such  as  Mrs.  Franklin. 

"Wait  until  you  hear  more  of  it.  It  is  best  some 
times  not  to  notice  what  seems  too  ridiculous  for  belief. 
I  am  not  greatly  different  from  others,  and  it  would 
take  much  more  than  I  have  yet  heard  or  seen  to  con 
vince  me  of  any  wrong  intention.  Mr.  Berenger  has 
sat  in  the  Bathurst  pew  or  on  the  same  seat  and  looked 
at  Felix.  That  is  all  it  comes  to,"  said  Mrs.  Crofts. 

It  had  been  perhaps  an  hour  after  Berenger — who 
had  come  for  his  mail  and  had  gone  into  the  postoff ice, 
when  Felix  and  Kaspar  came  up.  Susannah  rose  and 
stood  by  the  window.  Daisy  got  off  his  horse  and  ran 
in — but  in  less  than  a  minute's  time  came  again  to  the 
door,  and  shaking  his  head,  said  something  to  his  sis 
ter,  who  sat  on  her  horse  a  little  way  off;  she  nodded 
and  immediately  turned  into  the  wide  road  that  led 
down  the  river.  In  a  short  time  Kaspar  again  made 
his  appearance  accompanied  by  Berenger,  who  after 
speaking  a  few  words  to  the  boy  hastily  mounted  his 
horse  and  galloped  off  in  the  direction  taken  by  Felix. 
Susannah  no  longer  hesitated.  One  of  the  charges  had 
been  that  this  couple  had  been  riding  alone  several 
times  in  the  past  two  or  three  weeks — once  at  night. 
Her  mother  was  absent ;  but  she  knew  that  Miss  Boling 
was  that  day  visiting  the  D unbars  and  though  late, 
might  not  yet  have  left  there.  She  put  on  her  hat  and 
walking  rapidly,  fortunately  met  her  a  hundred  yards 
or  less  from  the  Dunbar  residence. 

"Stop  a  minute,  I  want  to  have  a  little  chat  with 
you.  Get  out  Bettie" — to  Mrs.  Bathurst's  maid,  who 
was  driving.  "Get  out  and  walk  about  a  little." 

When  seated  in  the  buggy,  after  telling  of  many 
things  pertinent  she  concluded  by  saying: — 


182  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"But  what  seems  worst  of  all,  it  has  been  said  by 
people  of  the  highest  standing  among  us,  that  she  rides 
too  much  alone — that  a  girl  who  roams  the  woods  so 
often  alone  and  at  all  hours,  must  be  a  bold  one — and 
might  with  sufficient  temptation  break  off  an  engage 
ment  or  even  come  between  man  and  wife.  I  give — I 
believe — the  exact  language.  And  just  think  of  it! 
They  have,  not  ten  minutes  ago,  gone  down  the  river 
— to  Houghton's,  I  think — and  that's  five  miles,  with 
not  a  soul  along  besides  themselves." 

Here  both  ladies  broke  into  incontrolable  laughter. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Boling,  finally;  "Felicia  told  me 
this  morning  that  she  would  stay  all  night  there;  but 
I  thought  Daisy  was  to  go  with  her." 

Susannah  explained  that  she  had  seen  Daisy  leave 
for  home  just  as  the  others  had  disappeared  from 
sight. 

"We  know  that  it  all  comes  from  envy  or  jealousy, 
but  how  malicious  it  is — and  how  absurd !  Was  anyone 
named  besides  Berenger?" 

"No,  I  heard  of  no  one  else.  I  wondered  what  mar 
ried  man  was  in  danger — if  it  could  possibly  be  Mr. 
Dunbar." 

"We  must  prevent  all  possibility  of  that."  laughed 
Miss  Boling.  "We  are  going  to  stop  the  rides,  or  at 
least  limit  them  to  safer  latitudes;  we  decided  upon 
that  after  hearing  of  the  renewed  Indian  depredations. 
But  who  advanced  such  ideas  as  the  breaking  up  of 
lovers'  engagements  and  the  intereference  in  domestic 
matters?  It  would  be  laughable — it  is  laughable  when 
thought  of  in  connection  with  Felicia." 

"So  mother  said.  But  mother  and  I  agreed  that  it 
was  best  for  such  things  to  be  made  known  to  parents 
and  guardians  if  possible  before  gaining  too  much  head 
way." 

"You  are  right ;  and  I  am  thankful  you  told  me,  only, 
for  I  am  not  sure  I  will  ever  mention  it  to  Mrs.  Bath- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  183 

urst,  who  as  you  know  is  an  invalid — but  I  will  tell 
Felicia.  But  you  have  told  me  no  names.  How  did 
you  learn  it?" 

"It  was  not  told  to  me  directly — I  overheard  it." 

"Nevertheless,  Susie,  if  possible  I  would  like  you  to 
tell  me.  I  want  all  the  light  I  can  get." 

"I  will  tell  you,  Miss  Boling,  but  don't  tell  anyone 
else,  except  of  course,  Felicia.  It  was  Mrs.  Dunbar, 
the  lady  you  were  visiting  to-day,  who  made  the  sland 
erous  inference — the  others — Mrs.  Elwell,  Mrs.  Bur 
ton,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey — agreed  with  her." 

"Ah !  I  begin  to  interpret  your  fear  for  Mr.  Dunbar. 
And  the  other  ladies — either  one  of  them  would  give 
him  a  seat  beside  her  in  church,  in  a  flutter  of  extasy, 
if  he  asked  the  privilege." 

"As  I  said  before,  Miss  Boling,  do  not  mention  my 
interference ;  Mrs.  Dunbar  might  accuse  me  publicly  of 
meddling,  and  although  I  am  not  altogether  a  coward, 
I  would  not  like  to  meet  her  in  open  fight." 

"I  will  not.  I  understand  the  feeling  of  delicacy 
which  prompts  your  request.  But  I  must  admit  your 
warning  is  necessary,  for  I  would  like  to  meet  her  in 
open  fight." 


Without  exaggerating  the  importance  of  what  she 
had  heard,  Miss  Boling  began  to  review  the  events  of 
the  past  two  years;  especially  those  which  might  be 
supposed  to  affect  the  present  situation. 

To  begin  with,  she  was  convinced  that  nothing  had 
happened — nothing  had  been  done  by  either  Felicia  or 
Berenger,  which  might  even  suggest  a  scandal.  It  had 
been  a  growth  out  of  small  things  and  had  begun  at 
New  Year's  Eve.  Of  course  every  one  present  had  no 
ticed  that  Berenger,  with  an  arrogance,  that  many 
thought  characteristic,  had  chosen  from  amongst  all 


184  ALONG  THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 

others  the  prettiest  girl  in  sight  and  had  with  a  well- 
bred  sort  of  impertinence,  kept  other  more  timid  ad 
mirers  away.  In  the  world  to  which  he  belonged — in 
his  own  place  in  it — such  an  act  would  be  accepted  as 
legitimate,  and  to  be  regarded  as  simply  amusing.  And 
so  it  was — if  it  had  ended  there — but  had  it?  And  if 
it  had  not?  Well,  he  was  not  yet  a  married  man;  and 
it  might  still  be  a  question  whether  or  not  he  would 
marry  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  affianced.  Such  en 
gagements  were  often  broken.  But  although  she 
strongly  believed  him  to  be  in  love  with  Felicia,  she 
was  equally  certain  that  she  had  done  nothing  that 
could  be  construed  into  an  effort  to  draw  him  from  his 
allegiance. 

No,  there  was  nothing  to  do  that  had  not  already 
been  done.  Felicia  had  been  warned  by  her  parents, 
her  brother  and  herself.  The  man  would  soon  leave 
for  the  North,  he  would  be  married  when  he  come  back 
and  all  would  be  right.  She  laughed  to  herself  as  the 
thought  of  the  impossibility  of  controling  affairs  like 
this.  "The  young  scamp,  in  spite  of  all  our  care,  rides 
alone  with  the  forbidden  flower  for  two  miles.  I  have 
not  the  least  anxiety;  my  darling's  safety  lies  in  her 
own  strength  of  character;  and  I  might  add  in  his 
also."  She  recalled  with  amusement  an  old  story  she 
had  once  read  of  an  elderly  princess  who  had  a  son — 
an  Adonis  in  the  perfection  of  his  beauty.  Of  whom 
the  peasant  fathers  and  mothers  in  all  the  fields  be 
longing  to  the  farm  houses  and  cottages  throughout 
the  valleys,  surrounding  the  castle,  had  complained. 
They  were  afraid  to  trust  their  daughters  with  the  out 
door  work  unless  guarded  by  the  .elders;  this  was  oft- 
times  impossible.  "What  would  her  Highness  advise 
them?  She  would  have  the  great  bell,  which  hung  in 
the  church  tower,  rung,  when  the  paragon  walked 
forth,  the  maidens  must  hie  them  indoors,  until  its 
loud  tones  would  announce  the  return  of  the  young 
prince."  This  was  plainly  an  impossible  course  to 
follow  here,  though  the  present  situation  seemed  to 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  185 

call  for  something  similar.  And — thought  she — "It  is 
a  sad  thing  there  are  not  enough  of  this  kind  of  men 
to  go  around."  Miss  Boling  had,  at  first  sight,  been 
favorably  impressed  with  Berenger.  She  prided  her 
self  upon  her  judgment  of  human  nature,  and  justly; 
for  she  was  rarely  deceived.  Now,  she  was  amusing 
herself  by  summing  up  his  various  points  in  both  per 
son  and  character.  Of  his  extreme  personal  beauty, 
there  could  be  no  two  opinions,  and  it  added  no  little 
to  his  attractiveness,  that  he  attached,  or  seemed  to 
attach  no  value  to  its  possession.  There  was  not  a 
vestige  of  foppery.  To  be  clean  was  second  nature.  No 
one  ever  saw  him  in  ill-fitting  clothes.  The  best  of 
laundrying  could  be  had  in  San  Antonio.  It  was  also 
to  be  found  nearer  home.  Warren  attended  to  that, 
and  large  oblong,  shallow  boxes  made  weekly  trips  by 
stage  to  the  city,  under  his  supervision.  Berenger  was 
evenly  six  feet  in  height,  of  strong  but  slender  build, 
admirably  proportioned  as  to  length  of  limb — size  of 
foot  and  hand — the  hand,  strong,  slim  and  long- 
fingered — a  man's  hand.  All  this  taken  along  with 
the  perfect  head,  shapely  neck  and  throat  and  superb 
shoulders,  entitled  him  to  a  first  place  in  the  highest 
order  of  humanity.  An  expert  in  fencing,  shooting, 
riding,  and  dancing — and  graceful  with  it  all.  Col. 
Sanford  once  said  it  was  a  lesson  to  a  greenhorn  to  see 
him  mount  a  horse — and  worth  five  miles  of  hard  rid 
ing.  "And  he'll  dismount  at  anytime  to  help  an  old 
man  into  or  out  of  his  saddle  and  hold  the  stirrup  for 
him,  just  as  he  might  help  his  own  father.  Yes,  he's  a 
rollicking  chap  it  is  true — but  at  the  same  time  he's 
a  capital  business  man.  Familiar — you  say  ?  No.  He's 
familiar  with  nobody  but  that's  a  good  fault — if  it  is 
a  fault." 

Miss  Boling  remembered  this  eulogy,  and  believed 
that  something  might  be  said  of  the  degree  and  kind 
of  a  familiarity  sometimes  existing  among  friends, 
which  could  never  be  made  the  subject  of  reproach ;  but 
of  course  Col.  Sanford  did  not  mean  this. 


186  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Reaching  home  and  her  thoughts  continuing  along 
the  same  lines,  she  wondered  what  it  was  that  made 
so  many  ready  to  seize  upon  every  pretext,  just  or  un 
just,  to  find  fault  with  him.  He  was  not  self-assertive 
in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word — but  there  was  no  need 
of  self-assertion,  for  Nature  had  done  that  for  him 
when  she  made  and  placed  upon  him  the  stamp  of  a 
finished  specimen.  It  is  true  there  was  a  certain  in 
tangible  aloofness  in  the  atmosphere  about  him  which 
even  Mrs.  Franklin  seemed  to  feel  and  understand — 
and  to  resent  with  too  much  energy.  How  much  dam 
age  had  been  done  by  this  ill-natured  gossipping?  She 
thought  really  none  worth  consideration.  The  young 
man  was  pleased — perhaps  impassioned  with  the 
beauty  of  a  face.  It  might  be,  but  she  hardly  thought 
it  would  amount  to  more  than  that.  How  would  it  be 
with  Felicia?  She  was  afraid  she  could  only  hope  it 
would  be  as  with  the  others  who  had  apparently  been 
as  much  charmed  with  her. 

At  the  first  convenient  moment,  Felicia  was  told  of 
Susannah's  communication.  At  the  end  of  it  Miss 
Boling  inquired  about  the  rides. 

"The  rides?  I  didn't  know  I  was  being  talked  about 
like  that;  but  I  am  glad  Susie  told  you  in  the  way 
chosen — it  is  like  her.  There  were  no  rides  with  Mr. 
Berenger,  either  in  day  or  night-time."  Pausing  and 
blushing  hotly,  she  added:  "I  think  I  know  how  the 
story  of  the  night  rides  originated.  Last  week,  you 
may  remember  there  was  a  night  meeting  of  the  Pres 
byterians.  As  you  know  Daisy  and  I  went ;  when  com 
ing  home  we  met  Mr.  Berenger,  who  turned  and  rode 
back  a  little  distance  with  us,  and  during  this  ride  of 
no  further  than  two  or  three  hundred  yards,  a  crowd 
of  men  and  boys  overtook  and  passed  us.  This  was  the 
night-ride.  There  was  no  other." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  187 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

After  Felicia  had  been  warned  by  her  parents  and 
teacher  she  relapsed  into  her  former  feeling  of  chilled 
restraint.  She  had  not  seen  Berenger's  attentions  in 
the  same  light  as  had  the  others ;  to  her  they  had  taken 
the  shape  of  an  apology  and  meant  the  natural  regret 
of  a  generous  nature.  Of  late  their  conversation  had 
been  limited  to  the  merest  conventionalisms,  and  never 
once  had  it  lapsed  into  the  freedom  which  character 
ized  it  at  Mrs.  Compton's  ball.  Yet  through  it  all  she 
knew  if  fault  there  was,  it  was  her  own — that  his  man 
ner  was  but  a  reflection  of  her  own.  "It  is  best,"  she 
thought  with  a  sigh,  feeling  a  premonition  of  pain — 
of  a  whole  lifetime  of  sorrow  in  which  he  would  play 
no  part;  that  very  soon  he  would  go  out  of  her  life. 
Very  well;  there  were  the  others — her  family  and  her 
friends;  whatever  followed  she  would  make  the  best 
of  it  all. 

That  evening  she  would  make  a  long  promised  visit 
to  the  Houghton  ranch.  As  already  told,  she  was  rid 
ing  down  the  river  road  after  parting  with  Kaspar  at 
Casa  de  Campo;  she  would  pass  his  place.  Her  heart 
beat  rapturously  at  the  thought ;  perhaps,  as  often  had 
happened  before,  she  would  see  him — sitting  on  the 
veranda  or  going  about  the  grounds.  This  she  knew 
was  not  the  right  feeling,  but  believed  it  would  cease 
altogether  when  he  was  married.  She  was  quite  cer 
tain  that  would  end  it — must  end  it.  Hearing  the  gal 
loping  of  a  horse,  with  frontier  wisdom  she  looked  back 
and  saw  that  it  was  Archie  Berenger  himself. 

"I  had  to  ride  hard  and  fast  to  overtake  you,  Miss 
Bathurst,"  he  said,  as  bending  over  he  reached  out  to 
shake  hands.  "I  asked  Daisy  about  the  family — your 
self,  especially,  and  he  told  me  you  had  just  gone  down 
my  way — and  here  I  am!" 


188  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

For  a  moment  only,  she  looked  at  him,  but  he  saw 
once  more  the  glad  light  which  had  so  electrified  him 
at  the  New  Year's  ball.  But  a  straightening  of  the 
slight,  graceful  figure  an  instance  after,  showed  him 
that  the  barrier  which  in  the  past  few  weeks  he  had 
failed  to  remove,  was  up  again.  "Now  is  my  oppor 
tunity,"  he  had  said  to  himself  as  soon  as  Daisy  had 
replied  to  his  question: — "Why  isn't  your  sister  with 
you  to-day — where  is  she?" 

"Who,  Felix?  She  was  with  me  until  a  minute  or 
two  ago.  She's  gone  down  your  way,  and  she's  alone." 

And  now !  Was  it  so  good  an  opportunity.  A  single, 
surprised  glance — a  flash-light — had  seemed  to  reveal 
all  he  wanted  to  know.  He  was  dizzy  with  joy.  Why 
not  tell  her  at  once  how  fondly  he  loved  her !  But  the 
change  had  followed  quickly  and  it  was  a  beautiful 
marble  face — now  partly  averted — which  chilled  and 
made  him  pause.  It  was  the  face  of  Darius !  Just  so 
had  she  looked  when  answering  Mrs.  Rainey's  question 
about  his  engagement.  It  was  a  natural  and  simple 
enough  reply  to  a  question  that  was  as  presumptuous 
as  it  was  impertinent  and  uncalled  for,  but  the  woman 
had  shrunken  back  and  flushed  as  from  a  sharp  rebuke. 
What  would  she  think  of  an  apostasy  like  the  one  con 
templated  ?  Perhaps  she  is  thinking  of  it — he  thought 
half -humourously.  He  would  wait.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  be  wildly  happy,  but  he  must  say — something 
else — if  only  for  a  beginning. 

"What  a  pretty  pony!  Hardly  a  pony  either — he's 
very  much  of  a  horse.  Isn't  he  one  of  the  two  that  out 
ran  the  Indians?  What  is  his  name?" 

"Max — Maximilian — my  own  property,"  patting  the 
glossy  shoulder.  "Yes,"  it  was  Max — and  Echo — 
Daisy's  horse.  It  would  have  been  easy  work — out 
running  the  Comanches — if  it  had  not  been  for  our 
mistake ;  but  i  believe  I  have  already  told  you  all  about 
that." 

"They  are  just  alike  I've  noticed — Max  and  Echo. 
Why  Echo?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  189 

"They  are  brothers,  and  as  you  say,  just  alike — their 
voices  being  the  same;  and  Max,  as  may  be  supposed, 
knowing  himself  to  be  older,  always  neighs  first  when 
separated — and  Echo  answers." 

"How  very  interesting!  You  ride  well,  Miss  Bath- 
urst;  I  often  noticed  that  in  the — in  the  days  when 
you  wouldn't  speak  to  me.  You  use  a  long  stirrup  I 
see."  Disconcerted  from  the  first,  Felix  was  still 
more  discomfited  by  this  allusion  to  the  past.  Feel 
ing  an  almost  insupportable  delight  in  his  presence,  and 
fearing  detection,  she  had  talked  fast  and  nervously — 
and  without  looking  at  him ;  she  now  hurried  on  in  the 
same  manner. 

"A  long  stirrup?  Always;  but  it  is  easy  to  ride 
Max;  he  paces  as  fast  as  he  trots;  but  I  like  this  gait 
best — it's  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  Daisy's  horse 
does  it — they  are  gaited  alike,"  she  asserted,  for  the 
second  time  throwing  a  swift  glance  in  his  direction. 

He  was  looking  at  her — his  eyes,  half-closed,  were 
sparkling  with  mirth. 

"He  reads  me  through  and  through,"  she  said  to 
herself,  with  a  slight,  impatient  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
and  blushing  hotly. 

"She  is  afraid  I  am  going  to  be  impertinent,"  he 
thought,  noting  the  gesture. 

She  was;  and  trying  to  think  of  a  way  to  avert  it. 
She  could  think  of  nothing  to  say;  but  a  little  further 
on  the  roads  forked;  the  M'Calls  lived  not  more  than 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  away — ought  she  not  to 
take  the  left  hand  ?  No,  this  would  not  do ;  he  had  rid 
den  fast  to  overtake  her  and  had  said  so.  She  would 
be  braver;  but  she  had  never  felt  so  abashed. 

As  if  in  answer  to  what  was  in  her  mind,  he  asked : 

"Which  of  these  equally  good  roads,  are  you  going 
to  take?" 

"The  right  hand  one ;  I  am  going  past  your  place  to 
Houghton's  and  will  stay  all  night." 


190  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"So  Daisy  told  me,  but  I  was  afraid  you  would  not; 
you  looked  like  you  might  stop  at  M'Call's,"  laughing 
frankly,  in  boyish  fun. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  to  ride  so  far  alone?" 

"Not  afraid  but  sometimes  a  little  anxious.  When 
the  road  leads  through  a  chaparral  I  had  always  rather 
not  be  alone,  but  I  know  my  horse  can  run  away  from 
anything  I  would  be  likely  to  meet." 

"An  arrow  for  instance?  You  might  not  be  so  lucky, 
as  before." 

"Oh,  an  arrow.  Indians,  my  father  says,  have 
methods  of  warfare  and  they  could  not  get  in  this  far 
South  without  meeting  the  Rangers  who  are  scouting 
now,  North  and  West  of  this — others  are  daily  joining 
them." 

"That  is  true,  yet  they  have  committed  some  fearful 
depredations  in  spite  of  the  scouts.  High  up  on  the 
Comal  and  Cibolo  rivers  they  have  both  murdered  and 
stolen  within  the  last  two  months.  I  saw  a  company 
of  regulars  on  their  way  to  the  mountains  yesterday. 
Miss  Bathurst,  promise  me  you  will  not  ride  alone 
again  for  a  long  time  at  least." 

"I  need  no  urging — knowing  my  danger."  She  now 
observed  that  he  was  armed.  When  they  reached 
Berenger's  place  an  old  man  at  work  in  the  yard  hur 
ried  down  the  walk  to  open  the  gate. 

"Don't  open  it,  Warren,  I'm  not  coming  in  yet." 

The  old  man  stood  blinking  after  them  as  they  passed 
on — muttering  to  himself.  "That  is  the  leddy  they 
are  talking  so  much  about  and  there  is  where  the  hitch 
is.  But  if  it  pleases  'im  it's  no  odds  to  me." 

After  a  pleasant  visit,  Felix  left  Houghton's  early  in 
the  afternoon  that  she  might  reach  the  school-house  at 
the  hour  of  dismissal. 

Again  passing  Berenger's,  she  observed  his  horse 
tied  in  the  yard  and  saw  Warren  go  hurriedly  into  the 
house,  out  of  which  his  master  came  immediately  and 
mounting  hastily,  joined  her. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  191 

"You  see  I'm  trying  to  take  care  of  you,"  he  said. 
"I  will  go  with  you  across  the  river." 

"You  have  a  beautiful  home  and  it  will  be  lovelier 
when  the  leaves  come  out." 

"About  all  the  credit  is  due  to  Warren ;  he  is  fond  of 
trees  and  flowers  and  keeps  the  neighborhood  supplied 
with  vegetables.  Yes,  it  is  a  pretty  place,  but  Miss 
Bathurst,  I'm  tired  of  the  country.  Not  so  much  that 
either  as  disappointed.  I  never  from  the  beginning 
wanted  to  live  here — knowing  that  I  could  do  every 
way  better  in  San  Francisco  or  New  Orleans.  I  have 
always  wanted  to  be  on  the  coast.  On  the  edge  of  salt 
water,  preferably.  When  I  moved  up  from  below  at 
El  Corrreo,  where  I  first  saw  you,  don't  you  know — 
(with  a  quick  little  glance  at  her) — the  business  men 
of  the  country  thought  the  future  principal  town  of 
this  country  would  be  where  my  place  is  now.  It  was 
believed  to  be  the  best  site  for  business  on  the  line  of 
this  road — the  road  we  are  now  on — it  is  the  Overland 
Stage  Route  which  reaches  to  California.  The  coaches 
pass  my  door  daily,  as  you  know.  Until  of  late  it  was 
supposed  that  the  railroad  would  take  its  place  in  less 
than  two  years.  In  surveying  it  was  found  that  Casa 
de  Campo,  then  only  a  postof  f  ice,  would  be  the  choice ; 
and  very  soon  plans  for  a  courthouse  were  offered  and 
accepted ;  and  although  there  will  be  a  rise  in  all  lands 
lying  within  a  distance  of  from  five  to  ten  miles  of  the 
favored  spot,  it  will  not  be  like  selling  residence  lots  to 
several  thousand  homeseekers.  But  this  does  not  de 
scribe  the  length  and  breadth  of  my  disappointment.  It 
has  been  over  two  years  and  the  road  has  not  begun 
to  come  this  way,  as  yet.  Some  time  ago,  shortly  after 
the  survey  had  been  made,  I  wrote  to  my  father  beg 
ging  him  to  let  me  sell  our  land  and  other  property  in 
this  State.  I  ought  to  say  his  property,  for  I  am  only 
an  agent — I  have  nothing.  This  would  set  me  free  to 
go  where  I  might  choose.  After  several  weeks  of  wait 
ing,  his  answer  was  that  he  had  not  thought  the  matter 
worthy  of  consideration.  I  wrote  again  and  more 


192  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

plainly,  and  found  last  evening  when  I  opened  my  mail 
that  I  am  to  stay  and  in  other  ways  to  do  as  he  thinks 
best.  I  have  again  written  and  still  more  positively, 
for  I  am  sure  he  is  wrong,  for  since  writing  the  second 
time  I  have  had  another  reasonable  offer.  I  will  know 
in  a  few  days." 

"Then  if  you  sell  your  property  you  will  leave  here?" 

"I  have  a  mind  to  cut  and  run  whether  I  sell  or  not." 

"Take  French  leave?  I  hope  it  will  not  come  to  that 
for  you  will  be  missed.  I  know  little  of  business  mat 
ters,  but  I  hope  for  your  sake  it  will  be  as  you  wish.  Do 
you  think  there  will  be  no  railroad  here?" 

"I  think  it  is  being  wofully  mismanaged.  In  time 
there  will  be  several  roads  in  this  part  of  Texas,  but  it 
will  be  longer  than  I  care  to  wait.  I  like  the  game  of 
making  money,  Miss  Bathurst,  and  I  know  from  my 
experience,  short  though  it  has  been,  that  I  could  hold 
a  hand  with  the  best  business  men  in  the  country.  But 
I  am  an  only  son  and  I  do  not  like  to  oppose  my  father. 
I  am  all  he  has,  and  I  have  not  always  pleased  him.  In 
this  instance  I  have  half  a  mind  that  it  would  be  a 
weakness  to  yield  to  his  wishes  in  doing  what  he  evi 
dently  takes  to  be  my  duty.  If  I  could  get  away — fol 
low  my  own  bent — always  of  course  choosing  my  own 
business  partners — and — and  other  associates,  I  would 
have  no  fear  of  the  result." 

When  they  reached  the  postoffice,  Berenger,  having 
dismounted  and  posted  his  letters,  rejoined  Felicia. 
They  rode  in  silence  until  across  the  ford.  Then  resum 
ing  the  conversation,  he  said: — 

"Tell  me,  Miss  Bathurst,  what  you  would  do,  were  it 
possible  for  you  to  be  placed  in  the  same  predicament  ? 
Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  toss  up  a  coin  and  leave 
it  to  heads  or  tails." 

"Perhaps  that  would  be  a  more  intelligent  plan  than 
to  leave  it  to  me — yet,  I  must  say  I  feel  an  intense  in 
terest  in  all  you  have  said  about  it.  I  have  the  same 
ideas  of  independence.  I  believe  that  as  far  as  pos 
sible,  every  one  should  be  self-supporting,  or  should 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  193 

at  least  make  himself  or  herself  able  to  be  so;  and  at 
the  same  time  be  willing  to  help  those  who  never  can. 
Do  you  know?"  she  said,  looking  at  him  admiringly, 
"I  think  you  will  succeed  in  anything  you  undertake. 
You  talk  like  Uncle  Darius,  who  always  makes  things 
go  as  he  wills." 

"Go  as  he  wills.    And  are  you  like  him?" 

"At  present,  no.  My  will  is  subject  to  that  of  my 
parents,  to  do  as  nearly  right  as  I  know,  and  to  please 
them,"  she  added  sadly — '"It  is  not  always  easy  to  do 
right." 

"No,  I'll  be  damned  if  it  is ! — I  beg  you  pardon ;  but 
it  is  sometimes  harder  still  to  know  what  is  right.  I'm 
labouring  under  the  strain  of  it  at  this  moment.  It 
amounts  to  the  same  thing.  After  my  way  of  think 
ing — to  do  what  I  have  been  told  is  the  right  thing  in 
this  case,  would  be  a  blunder — a  very  serious  one." 

"As  to  that  I  would  have  to  know  more  of  it  before  I 
could  form  an  opinion."  And  not  having  the  most  dis 
tant  idea  that  his  perplexity  was  in  any  way  due  to 
herself,  she  said: — 

"I  differ  with  you  in  that  I  believe  we  can  always 
know  what  is  right,  even  if  at  the  time  it  does  not  seem 
best  for  us.  It  may  be  also  the  most  difficult  thing 
for  us  to  do — but  there  are  things" — she  continued 
thinking  only  of  herself — "which  are  both  right  and 
honourable  and  things  which  are  wrong  and  dishonour 
able,  yet  it  so  happens  that  all  of  us  who  are  at  all 
well-bred  recognize  the  difference."  Berenger  never 
afterwards  looked  upon  her  as  a  child. 

"Miss  Bathurst,  (looking  at  his  watch),  let  us  ride 
under  that  liveoak  tree  and  stop  awhile  in  the  shade. 
I  will  tell  you  more  of  it — I  will  explain  fully." 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  Indians?  Look  into  the  chap 
arral  beyond — isn't  there  some  one  on  the  other  side?" 
Felix  was  laughing. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Berenger."  Kaspar  came  out 
of  the  thicket  lifting  his  hat. 


194  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  came  to  meet  you,  Felix,  because  I  knew  you  would 
be  afraid  when  you  came  to  this  place." 

"Don't  Daisy.  I  have  a  proven  reputation  for  brav 
ery.  I  am  a  Ranger — a  scout!  I  get  my  titles  from 
Big  Foot  Wallace,  himself,  and — and  some  of  the  neigh 
bors.  There  is  no  lack  of  evidence." 

"Including  that  of  Capt.  VanDorn.  Who  would  testi 
fy  on  oath  to  the  fact  of  your  being — 'as  cool  as  they 
make  'em.' " 

"I  am  afraid  to  endorse  that  when  I  remember  how 
I  felt  when  I  saw  how  the  big  Indian's  horse  could  run." 

"Kaspar  riding  ahead,  their  conversation  again  took 
on  a  confidential  tone.  Berenger  told  again  of  his 
deep  regret  for  his  thoughtless  act ;  how  it  had  followed 
him  for  days,  increased  a  thousand  fold  by  what  he  had 
heard  of  the  danger  she  had  escaped.  She  would  be 
surprised  to  know  how  much  it  had  troubled  him.  He 
had  tried  so  hard  to  meet  her,  but  her  attitude  was  one 
of  implacable  resentment.  She  had  so  successfully  kept 
out  of  his  way  and  he  was  afraid  to  come  to  the  house 
— believing  it  to  hold  the  frankest  little  enemy  he  had 
ever  provoked.  She  had  left  her  seat  beside  him  at 
Bethlehem,  in  the  face  of  the  whole  congregation;  if 
she  were  capable  of  that — there  might  be  a  row — she 
might  set  the  hounds  on  him — or — " 

Felix  bent  to  the  mane  of  her  horse — laughing  for 
a  minute  or  two  before  being  able  to  answer. 

"'It  was  not  at  all  as  you  think.  At  first,  I  might 
have  been  stubborn;  but  afterwards,  after  I  had  kept 
it  up  so  long,  I  had  got  to  be  morbidly  shy;  and  when 
I  left  my  seat  in  church  it  was  due  to  that." 

He  told  her  that  they  were  rapidly  coming  to  a  good 
understanding — one  more  meeting  and  they  would  be 
acquainted;  but  he  would  always  be  afraid  to  call  her 
— "'Felix."  Holding  her  hand  a  moment  too  long  in 
parting,  she  withdrew  it,  saying  with  gentle  dignity : — 

"I  hope  you  will  get  the  kind  of  a  letter  you  want 
when  the  time  comes  for  an  answer." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  195 

"So  do  I;  and  if  it  should  be  the  one  hoped  for,  I 
will  come  and  tell  you  of  it." 


With  an  expression  which  had  ruled  out  his  usual 
appearance  of  boyish  gayety,  Berenger  rode  home 
wards,  reflecting  moodily  upon  the  interview  just  over. 
Feeling  that  here  was  the  turning  point  which  was  to 
decide  whether  or  not  he  was  to  be  the  unhappy  slave 
of  circumstances — to  be  a  ward  or  minor  all  his  life — 
or  to  be  his  own  man — free  and  happy.  He  felt  as 
sured  he  could  win  this  beautiful  girl — and  with  her 
everyhting  else  worth  seeking. 

"Five  minutes  more  and  I  would  have  told  every 
thing.  And  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  wish  I 
had.  Why  didn't  I  send  the  boy  ahead  and  go  oh  with 
it.  It  would  have  barred  at  once  all  that  is  coming." 

But  it  might  be  the  best  way  to  face  it?  It  would 
be  the  longest  and  hardest  way;  he  was  quite  sure  of 
that.  It  would  be  like  a  battle — it  would  be  a  battle — 
a  hard  fought  one  at  that.  He  had  a  struggle  in  over 
coming  his  own  scruples — for  he  had  been  taught  to 
look  upon  it  as  inevitable;  that  it  was  a  thing  to  be 
accepted  like  an  article  of  faith,  in  the  established 
church,  and  that  too  without  question.  He  would  be 
looked  upon  as  an  apostate  from  every  point  of  view — 
and  deserving  the  punishment  accorded  to  such 
unfortunates. 

But  for  his  father,  he  would  care  nothing  for  all 
this.  "She  certainly  has  no  wish  to  break  the  engage 
ment."  His  memory  quoting  from  his  father's  letter. 
"Oh,  no — not  now,  because  I've  been  working  like  a 
jackass  to  make  myself  eligible."  He  laughed  a  little. 
"If  I  might  get  on  the  downward  grade  again?"  But 
how  far  off  and  impossible  that  was  now!  Looking 
forward  and  upward  to  a  life  of  usefulness  and  perfect 
happiness — since — when?  And  what  has  made  it  so 
easy?  Again  his  memory  gave  answer — "I  excused 
you — I  thought  it  was  something  you  saw  in  my  face." 
"Yes — it  was  something  I  saw  in  her  face." 


196  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Felicia  gave  an  account  of  her  visit  to  the  Hough- 
ton's,  and  of  her  meeting  with  Berenger,  in  a  manner 
so  unreservedly  frank  and  unconscious,  that  Miss  Bol- 
ing  was  confirmed  in  her  notion  that  it  would  be  folly 
to  disturb  Paul  and  Andrea  with  what  might  be  termed 
Mrs.  Dunbar's  flights  of  fancy;  deserving  of  notice 
only  as  coming  from  one  largely  endowed  with  a  malic 
ious  propensity  to  injure  others.  But  it  was  easy  to  deal 
with  such  persons  if  taken  in  time,  and  relying  upon 
her  own  ability  to  manage  the  matter  she  would  tell 
only  Felicia;  who  as  soon  as  she  had  heard  all  that 
Miss  Boling  thought  proper  to  tell  her,  said,  indif 
ferently  : — 

"I  don't  think  all  that  amounts  to  a  row  of  pins,  Aunt 
Eff ie,  because  none  of  it  is  true  and  no  one  will  believe 
it.  I  could  not  count  the  number  of  persons  with  whom 
I  have  ridden  along  the  road  in  the  same  way  as  with 
Mr.  Berenger  this  afternoon."  Then  immediately 
changing  the  subject,  went  on  apropos: — "I  was  sur 
prised  to  hear  him  say  he  would  like  to  leave  the  coun 
try.  The  cause  has  something  to  do  with  money  mat 
ters.  He  is  like  Uncle  Darius — I  mean  he  has  a  turn 
for  business.  He  says  he  likes  to  make  money.  You 
know  that  is  like  gambling  when  it  takes  hold  of  a  man. 
It  is  a  passion  to  which  everything  else  must  be  sub 
servient." 

"Mr.  Berenger  doesn't  look  like  that — grasping.  He 
looks  to  me  like  a  man  who  might  have  to  fight  pretty 
hard  with  another  controling  passion,  but  he  could 
never  be  avaricious."' 

"Oh,"  said  Felix,  "you  have  gone  far  ahead  of  my 
meaning.  I  said  'Like  Uncle  Darius,'  and  Uncle  Dar 
ius  is  not  that  bad ;  but  from  what  Mr.  Berenger  says 
it  must  be  nearly  so  with  him — as  that  is  the  reason 
why  he  wishes  to  leave  the  country;  and  perhaps  ex 
plains  the  delaying  of  his  marriage.  He  says  he  has 
nothing;  possibly  he  is  like  Uncle  Darius  in  that  also, 
for  I've  heard  Uncle  Darius  say  to  Basil  and  the  young- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  197 

er  boys,  that  no  man  ought  to  allow  another  man  to 
support  him,  even  if  that  man  was  his  own  father.  Yes, 
Mr.  Berenger  is  like  Uncle  Darius." 

"Like  your  Uncle  Darius.  Is  your  Uncle  Darius  as 
handsome?" 

"Am  I  as  handsome?  You  can  judge  for  yourself 
whether  or  not  he  is  as  handsome.  Aunt  Aurelia  says 
I  am  a  female  Darius  B.  Darius.  Aunt  Effie,  they 
do  not  favour  in  that  way.  Uncle  Darius  has  big 
grey  eyes — cool  eyes — that  make  people  do  things — 
eyes  that  make  you  afraid  to  do  wrong : — not  that  they 
always  look  the  same;  sometimes  they  show  love — and 
— oh,  everything — " 

"I  understand;  and  can  believe  you  resemble  him — 
but  being  a  female  as  your  aunt  says — you  are  softer." 

"Yes,  I  am  softer.  I  know  I  could  never  be  quite  so 
hard  as  I've  known  Uncle  Darius  to  be ;  and  I've  some 
times  been  afraid  of  him — but  always — always  loved 
him." 

"I  think  I  will  like  him.  Your  mother  says  he  is 
coming  soon.'" 

"Yes,  he  is  coming.  It  has  been  over  two  years  since 
we  saw  him.  Darling  Uncle  Darius !" 


Two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  confidential  inter 
view  under  the  liveoaks  was  interrupted.  Mr.  Berenger 
was  not  at  church  on  the  day  after,  which  was  Sunday ; 
nor  did  he  appear  on  the  Sunday  following  a  week 
after. 

"The  letter  did  not  come,  or  if  it  did,  he  had  for 
gotten  his  promise,"  thought  Felix,  laughing  at  her 
self  for  a  momentary  feeling  of  vexation  and  disap 
pointment.  A  day  or  two  after,  however,  the  cause  of 
his  absence  was  revealed.  Col.  Sanford,  returning  with 
her  father  from  below,  when  at  tea  remarked.  "Archie 
Berenger  had  made  some  land  trades  and  sales  at  a 
big  profit ;  and  all  in  a  week's  time.  He  had  sold  every 
thing  but  his  home  place  on  the  river."' 


198  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"So  I  heard,"  answered  Paul.  "Some  of  this  prop 
erty  was  in  improved  ranches,  I  understand — that  is — 
there  were  fenced  in  pastures,  with  the  usual  accom 
modations,  such  as  roughly  put  up  jacals,  corrals,  wells 
and  cattle-pens,  ready  for  future  ranching.  I  thought 
he  was  going  into  the  business  himself." 

"No.  But  he  sold  out  at  greater  profit  on  account 
of  these  improvements,  and  has  already  accepted  an 
other  contract  to  supply  a  couple  of  army  posts  on  the 
frontier." 

"He  has  forgotten  his  promise  to  take  me  fully  into 
his  confidence."  Felicia,  laughing  a  little  at  the  idea 
that  she  herself,  would  like  the  game  of  making  money 
if  only  she  were  a  man;  but  feeling  quite  sure  there 
would  have  to  be  a  stronger  motive  behind  the  wish, 
than  a  mere  desire  for  gain.  She  plainly  misunderstood 
his  meaning.  A  little  reflection  would  have  made  ap 
parent  the  fact,  that  a  man  like  Archie  Berenger  would 
long  ago  have  been  a  controlling  power  in  an  independ 
ent  and  well-conducted  business  of  his  own,  had  there 
not  been  strong  cause  for  his  remaining  in  his  present 
subordinate  position ;  a  position  which  in  a  roundabout 
way  was  the  consequence  of  filial  reverence  and  affec 
tion.  He  had  been  a  disappointment  to  his  father  in 
every  way.  Not  realizing  the  extent  or  bitterness  of 
the  disappointment  until  he  himself  become  a  man,  he 
resolved,  no  matter  at  what  sacrifice,  to  win  back  the 
love  and  esteem  of  the  one  whom  from  infancy  he  had 
regarded  with  an  affection  a  little  less  than  idolatrous. 
He  could  and  he  would.  He  soon  justified  his  own  opin 
ion  of  himself.  It  was  not  a  business  he  would  have 
chosen — certainly  not  in  his  present  subordinate  ca 
pacity — going  as  he  did  for  the  first  few  months  into 
an  already  established  business  of  cotton  carrying,  his 
father  being  part  owner  in  a  line  of  clipper  ships  run 
ning  from  New  Orleans  to  Liverpool,  and  largely  in 
terested  in  other  foreign  trade.  The  elder  Berenger 
was  surprised  and  elated  at  the  result — finding  in  his 
son  a  capacity  for  business  so  much  greater  than  was 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  199 

required  for  the  work  in  which  he  was  now  engaged — 
a  work  which  he  well  knew  could  not  be  congenial  to 
a  man  like  Archie,  that  tie  resolved  to  change  it.  Nat 
urally  his  mind  turned  to  what  he  himself  would  pre 
fer.  The  eyes  of  the  world  were  upon  Southwest 
Texas.  He  had  visited  the  country  and  had  already  in 
vested  in  lands;  some  of  his  speculations  in  which  had 
turned  out  profitably.  This  was  certainly  the  best 
place  for  a  beloved  but  profligate  young  man. 

The  expected  letter,  upon  which  so  much  depended 
was  received  a  few  hours  after  parting  with  Felix.  It 
was  something  more  than  was  expected;  inasmuch  as 
there  would  be  no  further  opposition  to  his  selling  out. 

"Sell  the  property  at  the  price  offered ;  even  then  if 
Proctor  fails  me,  my  affairs  here  will  be  in  a  serious 
condition.  As  to  the  other  matter,  come  home  after 
you  have  done  out  there,  and  let  us  talk  it  over  like 
men.  Refer  to  my  answer  to  your  first  letter  on  the 
same  subject.  I  know  of  nothing  further  to  say — per 
haps  face  to  face  we  may  think  of  something.  Do  not 
sell  the  river  place,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  am  in 
honour  bound  to  hold  it.  I  am  pleased  with  your  prom 
ise  to  wait  for  my  opinion,  but  we  will  have  to  meet.  I 
feel  that  I  could  not  make  my  meaning  clear  by  letter, 
and  you  and  I  can  not  risk  an  estrangement."  A  few 
more  or  less  pertinent  remarks  and  this  was  all.  But 
Berenger  felt  as  an  escaped  prisoner  might  feel  when 
re-entrapped.  He  had  a  feeling  of  being  hurried — that 
his  father  had  not  told  him  all;  that  his  financial  af 
fairs  were  even  worse  than  represented.  He  had  an 
idea  that  something  unexplained  had  caused  the  delayed 
answer  to  his  own  letter.  He  had  asked  for  time.  Now 
he  would  push  the  sale.  How  glad  he  was  when  he 
thought  how  surprised  his  father  would  be  when  he 
knew  of  the  great  profit  at  which  he  had  disposed  of 
this  property,  and  that  this  profit  was  due  to  his  own 
management.  It  cheered  him  to  know  that  by  his  own 
superior  ability  he  could  always  help  his  father.  As 
to  the  other  matter,  he  intended  to  be  his  own  master 


200  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

in  that.  No  other  man  ever  had  or  ever  could  influence 
him  in  affairs  relating  to  women,  and  certainly  he 
would  allow  no  interference  here.  He  could  easily  man 
age  to  put  it  out  of  anyone's  power  to  interfere.  This 
was  his  first  thought,  but  it  was  abandoned  almost  at 
the  moment  of  conception.  He  was  having  to  deal  with 
one  whose  standard  of  honour  was  of  the  highest.  She 
would  ask  questions.  If  he  answered  falsely  or  equivo 
cally,  he  had  not  a  doubt  but  she  would  believe  him. 
But  did  he  want  that?  A  thousand  times,  no!  He 
would  only  see  her  once  more  and  say  good  bye;  then 
he  would  break  all  other  ties  and  come  back  to  claim 
his  own  with  clean  heart  and  hands.  He  would  go  to 
church  and  there  like  a  friend  would  say  good  bye  in 
the  presence  of  others,  for  doubting  his  own  self-con 
trol  he  would  not  risk  a  private  interview.  On  the  Sun 
day  which  was  his  last,  he  was  among  the  crowd  which 
stood  around  the  door  at  the  close  of  the  morning  ser 
vice;  and  when  Felix  and  her  governess  went  to  their 
carriage,  he  approached  them,  and  began  at  once  to 
tell  them  of  his  departure  the  next  day. 

"I  will  first  go  to  New  Orleans ;  but  I  may  have  to 
go  further — perhaps  across  the  ocean;  it  is  partly  a 
business  trip,  and  I  cannot  say  how  long  it  may  take 
me;  but  it  is  possible  I  may  be  absent  two  or  three 
months." 

He  had  been  looking  steadily  at  Felicia,  while  talking 
to  Miss  Boling. 

"Three  months,  Mr.  Berenger!  That  sounds  more 
like  a  tour  of  pleasure  than  one  of  business.  An  ex 
tended  one,  and  I  hope — I  know  it  will  be  a  pleasant 
one."' 

He  glanced  at  her,  slightly  knitting  his  brow,  shook 
hands,  and  without  any  further  recognition  of  her 
reply  gave  his  hand  to  Felix. 

"Good  bye,  Miss  Bathurst?" 

"Good  bye,  Mr.  Berenger."  It  was  all  she  could 
manage  to  say,  and  looked  as  if  shocked.  He  stood  for 
a  moment  or  two  as  if  in  expectancy,  then  turned  ab- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  201 

ruptly  away.  Felix  gazing  after  him  with  questioning 
eyes/hardly  seemed  to  breathe.  Nothing  was  changed, 
but  she  felt  like  the  prisoner,  who  though  long  certain 
of  his  doom,  hears  it  confirmed,  and  with  its  confirma 
tion,  the  day  of  its  execution.  The  driver  touched  the 
horses  and  they  broke  into  a  trot. 

"He  is  both  abrupt  and  uncommunicative.  Why 
didn't  he  say  he  was  going  to  be  married?  For  that  is 
what  is  the  matter,"  said  Miss  Boling. 

"Do  you  think  he  is  intending  that?"  asked  Felix, 
who  had  instantly  recovered  her  usual  manner. 

"What  else  could  he  mean?  It  is  high  time  for  him 
to  be  doing  something  of  the  kind,  if  he  ever  expects 
to  do  it,"  she  snapped.  "Didn't  I  say  'tour'  plain 
enough?  He  didn't  deny  it— did  he?" 

Just  now  things  were  crowding.  But  later  Felix 
remembered  the  letter,  yet  failed  to  see  any  connection 
between  a  business  letter  and  a  bridal  tour.  Still  it 
might  be  so ;  at  any  rate  the  sooner  Mr.  Berenger's  fate 
was  decided  the  better  for  her  own :  she  could  at  least 
make  a  better  guess  as  to  her  own  future,  when  able 
to  lay  aside  all  wild  speculation  as  to  what  might  be 
awaiting  her.  So  shaken  had  she  been  by  her  own 
emotion  that  she  had  not  remarked  that  he  was  equally 
affected.  But  Miss  Boling  had  noted  both,  for  turn 
ing  as  their  carriage  moved  away,  she  had  seen  him 
stop  and  look  after  them  as  if  hesitating.  Somehow 
she  had  felt  infuriated.  A  kind  of  resistant  rage  took 
possession  of  her,  for  which  she  told  herself  there  was 
no  reasonable  excuse;  and  when  Felicia  asked  quite 
calmly,  if  she  would  return  for  the  evening  service,  she 
answered  crossly: — 

"No,  I  will  not — I  do  not  care  for  it." 

"I  am  glad,  for  neither  do  I."  Felicia  replied  gently. 
She  wore  the  look  of  indifference  and  submissiveness 
which  had  of  late  become  habitual,  and  which  gave  a 
winning  charm  to  the  expressive  eyes — eyes  which  told 
"everything."  Yet  she  had  not  the  remotest  idea  that 
Miss  Boling  had  seen  and  understood  the  feeling  of 


202  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

despair  which  a  few  minutes  ago  had  enveloped  her. 
She  did  not  speak  again,  but  considered  thoughtfully 
how  and  what  she  would  do  hereafter.  There  were 
some  leaves  in  her  journal  to  be  destroyed;  that  done 
there  would,  she  was  quite  sure,  be  no  record  of  her 
first  love.  Her  first  love  and  her  last.  Yes,  her  last! 
Would  it  be?  She  knew  it  would — as  well  now  as  she  did 
many  years  after  when  memory  brought  back  the  same 
scene  to  her  mental  vision — the  same  pain  to  a  heart 
that  for  love  of  God  and  right,  had  through  years  of 
sorrow  refused  to  break.  Light  vapoury  clouds  were 
throwing  blue  shadows  across  the  road  and  on  the  wav 
ing  prairie  grass,  and  a  light  wind,  carrying  the  scent 
of  a  thousand  flowers  on  its  wings,  was  shifting  them 
as  fast  as  formed.  She  leant  in  a  nerveless,  helpless 
way  against  the  back  of  her  seat — gazing  at  the  wide, 
purple  clover  beds  on  the  hills  which  bordered  this 
treeless  prairie  five  miles  away,  and  thinking — think 
ing,  until  absorbed  in  her  thoughts,  she  forgot  her  sur 
roundings  and  spoke  aloud: — 

"It  must  be !    It  is  the  only  way.    It  is  the  right  way." 

"Of  course  it  is.  He  ought  to  have  married  two  or 
three  years  ago,  instead  of  dangling  after  married 
women  and  unprincipled  widows,  even  if  they  did  take 
the  lead  in  dangling  after  him.  It  was  a  useless — " 

"Oh,  Aunt  Eff ie !"  said  Felix,  sitting  erect  and  laugh 
ing  back  at  her.  "Dear  Aunt  Effie,  how  funny  that 
sounds!  He  may  have  done  that,  of  course  we  mean 
Mr.  Berenger,  but  I  did  not  mean  that  exactly;  I  was 
thinking  of  something  very  different,  and  which  con 
cerns  myself  alone.  I  sincerely  hope  he  will  be  happy, 
and  I  am  sure  you  and  I  will  try  our  best  to  be  so,  no 
matter  what  may  come." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Boling,  much  relieved.  "No  one 
can  be  miserable  who  makes  an  effort  to  put  up  with 
whatever  may  come." 

Within  an  hour  the  objectionable  records  were  cut 
from  the  diary,  leaving  only  their  blank  margins  on 
which  were  pasted  blank  corresponding  leaves.  This 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  203 

was  a  good  sized  book,  something  finer  than  those 
which  go  under  the  name  of  blank-books  or  ledgers, 
and  of  smarter  cover ;  bound  on  back  and  corners  with 
dark  red  leather,  and  bearing  on  its  first  leaf  of  vel 
lum-post,  in  letters  of  gold,  this  inscription — "The 
Diary  of  Felicia  Mary  Bathurst."  On  the  fly-leaf  at 
the  beginning  was  transcribed : — "To  Felicia  from  her 
father,  on  her  twelfth  birth-day."  The  date,  month, 
and  year  written  below,  and  followed  by  one  line.  "To 
be  kept  without  blot  or  blemish." 

Felix  had  other  journals,  one  or  two  of  older  date 
in  which  were  annually  recorded  all  events  of  import 
ance  which  had  occurred  in  the  lives  of  the  family  since 
their  beginning.  Indeed,  taking  in  the  occurrences  of 
the  neighborhood  as  the  writer  was  compelled  to  do, 
these  accounts  were  sometimes  lengthened  out  into 
narratives,  and  were  often  witty  and  amusing;  but  this 
book  was  devoted  almost  exclusively  to  personal  mat 
ters,  and  had  until  of  late  been  open  to  inspection,  lying 
on  Felicia's  desk  in  easy  reach  of  any  member  of  the 
family.  Miss  Boling  often  consulted  it  for  a  missing 
date  or  to  prove  one  in  dispute.  Such  had  been  her 
object  a  day  or  two  after  the  warning  of  Susie  Crofts. 
But  it  was  not  in  its  usual  place ;  neither  was  it  in  the 
drawer  of  a  large  writing-table  used  in  common  by 
every  member  of  the  family;  nor  was  it  to  be  found 
anywhere  else.  She  went  to  a  little  case  of  books  hang 
ing  on  the  wall  of  Felicia's  room.  It  was  not  there, 
nor  in  the  room  apparently.  "I  will  ask  her,"  she  said ; 
but  pausing  thoughtfully,  she  muttered: — "No,  I  will 
not;  neither  will  I  question  her  about  the  date,"  she 
added.  She  never  saw  the  journal  again.  In  this  room 
were  two  small,  red,  leather  trunks,  of  English  make 
and  exactly  alike.  Paul  had  presented  them  to  the 
twins.  On  the  death  of  her  little  brother,  Felicia  had 
become  the  owner  of  both.  Each  trunk  closed  with  a 
spring  lock ;  in  the  tray  of  one  of  them  lay  the  missing 
journal.  Felicia  had  begun  to  keep  her  own  counsel. 
No  one  else  should  ever  be  hurt  or  grieved  by  her 


204  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

troubles.  So  much  Miss  Boling  guessed,  more  readily 
that  in  this  respect  she  knew  her  pupil  to  be  like  her 
self.  "I  have  never  found  time  to  look  back,"  she 
thought,  "but  this  reminds  me — ah,  well,  I  won't  begin 
now  with  the  trouble  so  near  at  hand,  now  staring  us 
in  the  face,  it  is  no  time  to  bring  up  anything  that  will 
add  to  it.  Besides  this  is  something  to  rejoice  over; 
there  will  be  no  more  food  for  the  gossips.  The  episode 
is  over  and  gone.  That  reminds  me  further  of  Mr. 
Bathurst's  meeting  with  Archie  Berenger  at  Dunbar's 
last  Saturday.  I  wonder  what  he  may  have  heard  there. 
No  matter,  I  never  will  inquire." 

After  Berenger's  departure,  the  gossip  caused  by  his 
too  ardent  admiration  and  his  too  frank  expression  of 
it,  ceased,  and  the  scandal  mongers — the  busiest  of  all 
busy-bodies — sought  some  other  shining  mark. 


Randal  Houghton,  who  had  assumed  the  manage 
ment  of  all  business  hitherto  under  control  of  Berenger 
in  person,  and  who  was  now  in  regular  correspondence 
with  him,  had,  after  a  month's  absence,  reported  his 
marriage  to  Miss  Proctor.  It  could  not  be  told  just 
when  he  would  return. 

It  could  not  be  said  that  either  Randal  or  Larry  was 
surprised,  although  both  of  them  knew  of  and  believed 
in  his  strong  preference  for  Miss  Bathurst.  But  though 
looking  upon  the  communication  as  one  that  ought  to 
be  considered  as  confidential,  they  had  not  understood 
how  seriously  and  dangerously  earnest  this  preference 
had  grown  to  be.  It  was  now  the  unspoken  thought 
of  the  brothers  that  this  was  the  end — a  happy  ending, 
in  which  Felicia  if  taken  into  account  at  all,  had  little 
concern. 


That  Andrea  was  growing  weaker  with  every  com 
ing  day  was  plain  to  the  loving,  ever  watchful  eyes 
about  her.  Her  brother  and  her  sisters,  Sarah,  in 


205 


South  Carolina,  and  Aurelia,  now  married  and  living 
in  New  Orleans,  had  been  warned  that  now  it  might 
be  a  matter  of  only  a  few  weeks,  and  they  had  come. 
To  the  invalid,  their  visit  had  been  made  to  appear  as 
coming  from  a  desire  to  see  her  after  such  long  ab 
sence,  and  to  test  the  truth  of  what  they  had  heard  in 
description  of  the  beautiful  new  country  in  which  she 
lived.  It  may  be  that  she  was  not  deceived;  for  they 
remembered  afterwards  much  that  had  been  said  to 
put  them  at  ease,  and  to  keep  them  from  being  troubled 
about  her  sufferings. 


206  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"How  bad  is  it,  Paul?" 

"Only  a  few  months  at  most?"  he  answered,  a  look 
of  agony  coming  in  his  face  which  left  it  the  livid  pic 
ture  of  despair. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  done  and  what  I  mean 
to  do,  Paul.  I  guessed  from  your  letter  that  it  was  a 
serious  matter,  and  arranged  my  affairs  so  that  I  will 
be  able  to  stay  here  indefinitely,  no  matter  what  turn 
things  may  take.  I  will  stay  here,  until — I  am  no 
longer  needed.  Does  Basil  know?" 

"I  think  so." 

"How  sad  life  is,  Paul :  and  how  swiftly  we  slip  from 
one  of  its  stages  to  another.  Two  years  ago,  Basil  was 
a  youth;  now  he  is  a  man,  Felix — a  child,  is  now  a 
woman — a  most  beautiful  woman.  And  you,  Paul,  are 
gray.  If  you  do  not  brace  yourself  to  meet  what  is 
inevitable,  you  will  be  an  old  man  before  your  time. 
You  are  not  making  the  effort." 

"I  may  not  be.  But  you  would  hardly  believe  all  that 
it  means  to  me.  You  could  not  understand." 

"But  you  must.  You  will  be  needed.  The  mother's 
care  being  withdrawn,  and  your  children  at  an  age 
when  temptation  is  strongest,  will  need  a  father's  sup 
port  and  advice  as  never  before  in  their  lives." 

"I  have  the  strange  feeling  of  wanting  to  turn  all 
that  over  to  you,  Darius.  Of  shifting  to  other  shoulders 
a  burden  that  will  sooner  or  later  become  too  heavy — 
that  will  crush  me.  When  I  try  to  picture  a  future,  I 
can  put  nothing  in  shape; — although  I  have  known 
this  to  be  approaching  for  more  than  two  years." 

"You  will  get  over  that.  Of  course  I  would  willingly 
accept  the  guardianship  of  the  children — but  really, 
no  one  can  ever  take  a  father's  place.  You  must  re 
member  that  you  are  face  to  face  with  a  decree  of 
Providence — such  as  is  being  confronted  every  day  by 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  207 

all  humanity — in  every  part  of  the  world.  Do  not  think 
of  the  sorrow  that  comes  of  it,  but  look  about  for  work 
to  do.  Work,  Paul,  is  the  greatest  boon  God  ever  gave 
to  man." 

After  this  Paul  brightened  visibly.  Andrea  contin 
ued  to  improve — surprising  them  all  by  her  increased 
activity: — one  evening  going  through  a  cotillion  with 
Basil  as  partner,  to  his  great  pride  and  delight. 

This  apparent  gain  would  sometimes  go  on  for  weeks, 
then,  as  with  all  chronic  complaints,  relapse  into  a 
former  condition,  compelling  her  to  the  sofa  for  a  day 
or  two — when  she  would  again  appear  at  table,  seem 
ingly  as  well  as  before,  and  as  cheerful. 

They  had  been  laughing  at  Aurelia's  fear  of  meeting 
Indians  at  Galveston. 

"How  absurd  to  be  afraid  of  Indians  on  the  Gulf 
route;  they  have  not  been  seen  as  far  east  in  a  dozen 
years.  But  that  is  like  Aurelia.  Sarah  is  different — 
she  would  not  be  afraid  to  travel  on  the  extreme  fron 
tier.  You  will  like  them  both,"  she  said  to  Miss  Boling, 
who  had  not  yet  met  them. 

"I  will ;  but  what  a  houseful  you  will  have.  Wouldn't 
it  be  best  for  me  to  get  out  for  a  time?" 

"No,  certainly  not,"  said  Basil,  who  was  reading, 
as  laying  down  his  book  he  took  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Don't  think  of  it,"  said  Felix,  as  if  frightened. 

"You  see,"  said  Andrea,  smiling,  "it  cannot  be 
done." 

This  to  Darius  was  the  first  revelation  of  the  true 
relations  which  existed  between  the  governess  and  the 
family.  He  now  studied  her  face  earnestly.  "How 
lucky  for  all  that  she  is  here  at  this  crucial  period," 
was  his  unspoken  thought. 


It  was  now  in  the  middle  days  of  the  month  of  June ; 
yet  except  for  a  slight  change  in  the  colour  of  the  long 
grasses  like  the  sedge  and  mesquite,  and  a  slightly 
diminished  number  of  wild  flowers  everywhere,  there 


208  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

was  but  little  change  from  a  month  ago.  But  of  late, 
however,  the  west  end  of  the  veranda  began  to  grow 
fiery  hot  until  the  sea-breezes  began  to  blow;  and 
warm  even  after  they  had  been  doing  their  work  for  an 
hour  or  more,  it  was  better  to  cling  to  the  shady  east. 

"It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  likeness,"  said  Miss  Bol- 
ing  with  the  air  of  one  agreeing  to  an  assertion.  She 
was  looking  at  Andrea. 

Candace  arose  and  bent  over  her  mistress,  who  lying 
back  in  her  invalid  chair  appeared  to  be  asleep.  Be 
lieving  she  had  not  heard,  she  turned  back. 

"What  likeness,  Miss  Effie?"  she  asked  softly. 

"Between  (Felix  and  her  uncle." 

"There  is  a  strong  resemblance,"  said  the  mother, 
"it  only  puzzles  by  reason  of  the  difference  in  sex.  As 
I  remember  my  brother  in  his  infancy,  he  was  the 
image  of  my  babies — Felix  and  Felicia.  After  that  the 
likeness  diminished;  but  it  was  never  more  apparent 
than  now,  since  Felicia  is  a  woman." 

"The  similarity  does  not  end  in  outward  appear 
ance  ;  in  my  opinion  the  natures  are  alike." 

"No,  I  think  not?"  said  Andrea,  sitting  up  in  her 
chair  and  speaking  with  strained  earnestness.  "No ; — 
Darius  is  an  open  book.  But  even  though  her  mother, 
I  have  never  felt  that  I  fully  understood  Felicia — 
her  true  nature.  Not  that  I  have  cause  for  com 
plaint.  Oh,  no !  Not  that  or  anything  like  it.  But  for 
the  last  two  years,  even  making  allowances  for  her 
sorrow  at  the  death  of  her  brothers — a  grief  aggravated 
by  absence  from  home — there  seems  to  be  no  cause 
for  the  depression  of  spirit  and  the  entire  lack  of  in 
terest  in  certain  things  which  usually  make  up  the  hap 
piness  of  girls  of  the  same  age.  The  joyousness  of 
youth  is  lacking;  a — I  cannot  call  it  melancholy,  but 
a  settled  indifference  to  everything  which  concerns 
herself  only — or  directly.  The  predominant  feeling  in 
Felicia's  character  is  her  strongly  affectionate  disposi 
tion — her  love  for  her  relations  and  friends.  In  this 
she'  is  very  much  like  Darius." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  209 

"Another  unusual  trait,  is  her  insensibility  to  the 
admiration  of  young  men;  every  one  of  her  young 
friends  among  them  being  to  her  as  Basil  or  Daisy ;  or 
I  might  as  well  say,  Susie  Crofts  or  Laura  Houghton. 
She  likes  them  all;  is  even  fond  of  some  of  them;  but 
if  a  score  of  young  men  were  placed  in  a  row,  that 
Felicia  might  choose  a  lover  from  among  them — she 
would  find  them  all  alike.  I  refer  of  course  to  eligible 
young  men  like  we  have  here  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  She  has  no  perception  of  her  own  beauty — a 
beauty  one  would  naturally  associate  with  a  warm 
temperament." 

"That  may  not  be  a  defect — this  difficulty  of  selec 
tion  ;  especially  as  it  is  associated  with  a  warm  temper 
ament,"  said  Miss  Boling,  for  a  moment  surprised  and 
wondering  at  Andrea's  blindness;  but  remembering 
that  although  she,  herself,  in  daily  and  hourly  associa 
tion  with  the  girl,  would  but  for  an  accident — a  chance 
expression  in  the  soulful  eyes — have  been  equally  ignor 
ant.  The  owners  of  such  eyes  could  tell  or  conceal  at 
will.  From  the  first  she  had  known  and  appreciated 
Felicia's  determination  to  guard  her  mother  from  all 
exciting  influences ;  this,  however,  being  of  such  purely 
personal  nature,  could  not  be  classed  with  other  trou 
bles — being  without  question  in  this  case,  a  trouble  so 
peculiar,  that  the  management  of  it  might  always  be 
left  to  the  sufferer.  Andrea  who  at  first  looked  as  if 
expecting  a  more  comprehensive  reply,  had  again  closed 
her  eyes.  "There  is  nothing  to  regret  or  to  cause  the 
slightest  anxiety.  Felix  has  her  full  share  of  self- 
reliance  and  a  strong  will.  It  is  only  of  late  that  I  have 
realized  this  self-sufficiency.  Whether  she  marires 
or  not,  she  will  do  equally  well;  and  either  as  wife  or 
old  maid,  no  matter  where  placed,  whether  rich  or  poor, 
she  will  never  be  controlled  by  her  surroundings — she 
will  be  much  more  apt  to  regulate  them." 

Miss  Boling  was  glad  to  be  able  to  assert  boldly  an 
opinion,  about  which  she  would  have  been  in  doubt 
only  a  few  months  ago.  For  although  Felicia's  rever- 


210  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

ence  for,  and  belief  in  those  of  the  stronger  sex  had 
not  diminished,  she  would  hereafter  be  apt  to  form 
unbiased  opinions  on  all  important  questions. — A  very 
good  thing — and  necessary — especially  in  the  life  of  an 
old  maid. 

"How  happy  it  makes  me  to  hear  you  say  that;  be 
cause  I  know  you  mean  it.  I  have  confidence  in  both 
your  truth  and  your  judgment."  Andrea  closed  her 
eyes  as  if  freed  from  a  burden,  and  resumed  again  the 
position  from  which  she  had  been  aroused  by  Miss 
Boling's  question.  She  looked  very  pale  when  so  rest 
ing;  and  once  when  Sarah  and  Aurelia  returning  from 
a  ride  found  her  sleeping  in  this  manner,  the  latter 
began  to  shriek  out  in  an  agony  of  grief,  thinking  she 
was  dead. 

"She  has  been  telling  me  good-bye,"  thought  Miss 
Euphemia,  gazing  sadly  upon  the  pale  sleeper,  "and 
she  has  chosen  the  time  when  the  others  are  away. 
When  she  is  gone  it  will  be  remembered  by  all  of  them, 
that  to  each  one  she  has  done  the  same;  and  they  will 
accept  it  as  I  do — as  a  message  and  a  farewell." 

From  the  first  it  was  to  be  as  if  no  one  was  ill; 
and  Darius  had  readily  accorded  with  her  wishes: — 
laughingly  saying  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  family, 
that  though  his  sisters  were  no  longer  young,  they  bore 
their  years  lightly,  and  would  enjoy  any  entertainment 
afforded  by  the  country  except,  perhaps,  that  of  the 
cock-pit  and  bull-fighting." 

So  there  had  been  no  change  in  their  way  of  living. 

May  and  June,  the  loveliest  months  of  the  year  in 
the  Lone  Star  state,  went  swiftly  by;  and  when  the 
latter  months  of  Summer  with  their  bright  mornings, 
and  evenings  made  cool  by  gulf  breezes  had  joined 
them — the  end  came.  Looking  steadily  at  Paul,  her 
lips  moving;  bending  over  he  heard  the  whispered 
names  of  her  old  servants.  Calling  they  came,  pushing 
the  others  aside — and  kneeling,  opposite  each  other  by 
the  narrow  cot,  Andrea  looked  from  one  dark  face  to 
the  other  and  murmured  her  children's  names. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  211 

"We  will  stay  with  them  while  we  live — throughout 
all  our  lives,  we  will  never  leave  them,  dear  Miss 
Andrea,"  said  poor  Candace,  and  kissing  the  pale  hands 
of  their  beloved  mistress,  they  went  weeping  from  the 
room. 

It  was  given  out  that  Mrs.  Bathurst  would  be  buried 
beside  her  children.  Darius  had  made  the  necessary 
arrangements,  and  together  with  her  sisters  and  Basil 
would  witness  the  interment  at  their  old  home;  Basil 
going  directly  after  to  the  University  at  Charlottesville, 
Virginia. 

When  importuned  by  her  aunts,  Felicia  firmly  re 
fused  to  leave  her  father.  In  this  resolve  she  was  up 
held  by  Darius.  "Stay  with  your  father,  Felix,  and 
take  care  of  him — and  of  all  the  others,"  he  said,  re 
peating  the  words  of  their  parting  of  three  years 
before. 

In  the  gloomy  days  following,  the  presence  and 
sympathy  of  Miss  Boling  were  felt  by  all  in  a  way  not 
to  be  measured  and  never  to  be  forgotten.  Candace 
and  Polydore  seemed  suddenly  to  have  leaped  into  old 
age.  Before  leaving,  Darius  had  informed  them  that 
Polydore  had  been  granted  his  freedom.  The  papers 
confirming  his  manumission  were  already  in  his  pos 
session.  This  had  been  done  by  Andrea  a  few  months 
before,  being  as  she  said,  impelled  by  a  prophetic  feel 
ing  that  it  would  be  necessary. 

"I'm  afraid,  Paul,  we  are  both  to  die ; — and  we  know 
not  into  whose  hands  they  might  fall." 

Although  Paul  had  laughed  at  her  fears, — the  papers 
were  legally  drawn  up  and  the  sum  of  one  thousand 
dollars, — set  aside  for  the  old  man. 

"I  don't  know  how  to  begin  to  live  without  her," 
said  poor  Candace.  "I  was  fifteen  years  old  when  they 
brought  me  to  The  Pines'  and  she  was  eighteen  months, 
and  could  walk  very  well.  She  had  a  nurse  that  she 
liked,  but  she  took  to  following  me  about  the  house. 


212  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

She  would  pat  her  nurse  on  the  cheek,  and  smile  in 
apology,  and  would  then  leave  her  and  toddle  after  me 
— saying — "Gay  Candace! — I  love  pitty  Candace!" 

"I  was  to  be  a  dressmaker,  and  her  mother  would 
have  the  other  girl  take  her  away;  but  it  was  no  use. 
She  was  no  trouble  and  I  begged  the  care  of  her.  Oh, 
Polydore!  they  loved  me.  They  loved  you  first,  be 
cause  I  did.  They  would  have  set  you  free  any  time." 

"It  wouldn't  'a  made  no  diffunce — I  felt  free  ever 
since  dey  bought  me.  I  don't  feel  no  diffunce,  since 
Mahse  Paul  gim  me  dem  papers." 

"You  never  felt  your  bonds,  Polydore. — I  always 
knew  that.  And  for  that  reason,  I  never  troubled  about 
those  papers." 

"But  never  mind  how  we  feel  about  that,"  said  Poly 
dore,  speaking  as  he  had  not  often  spoken — in  fairly 
good  English — "Miss  Andrea  had  a  meaning  in  all  she 
did.  She  had  a  notion  that  we'd  need  those  papers." 

It  was  all  over  and  the  diminished  members  of  the 
little  household  began  to  reconstruct  and  accommodate 
themselves  to  the  change.  Not  having  been  permitted 
to  know  that  her  mother's  death  was  near,  Felicia  was 
only  aware  that  she  was  an  invalid ;  a  life-long  invalid, 
perhaps,  whose  death  might  not  take  place  for  years. 
Thus  in  spite  of  all  natural  warning  it  had  the  added 
weight  of  being  unexpected;  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  presence  of  friends  and  relatives,  would  have  been 
crushing.  Absorbed  in  her  grief  she  had  not  seen  that 
her  father  was  failing.  It  was  due  to  his  servants, 
some  of  whom  were  old,  and  had  lived  with  him  all  his 
life,  that  the  fact  was  brought  to  her  notice.  They 
talked  about  it  when  in  the  fields  at  their  work  and 
in  the  cabins  when  resting.  What  must  be  done?  He 
must  go  back  home — visit  his  mother  and  look  upon  the 
graves  of  his  wife  and  children.  Miss  (Felicia  would 
understand — and  Miss  Felicia  would  see  that  it  was 
done.  From  that  moment  Felicia  began  to  understand 
the  full  meaning  of  her  uncle's  adjuration: — "Take 
care  of  the  others,  Felix,  and  be  especially  kind  to  your 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  213 

father."  She  took  up  the  burden  willingly  and  lov 
ingly.  Astonishing  Paul  by  her  quickness  in  master 
ing  the  details  of  his  business  as  well  as  her  prompt 
suggestions  concerning  its  management.  A  few  min 
utes  before,  as  was  his  custom  of  late,  he  had  taken 
his  seat  alone,  apart  from  the  others,  at  one  end  of  the 
long  veranda,  and  unusually  depressed  was  asking 
himself  if  it  were  possible  to  endure  the  burden  of  sor 
row  now  weighing  upon  him.  With  each  coming  day 
it  was  growing  more  insupportable.  But  now  in  spite 
of  his  expressed  wish  to  be  left  alone,  she  had  come  to 
him  and  shown  him  that  he  could  still  hope. 

"But  are  you  not  afraid  to  try  this  alone,  Felicia? 
You  are  inexperienced,  and  you  are  very  young." 

"Perhaps  that  is  why  I  am  so  willing  to  try.  But 
Aunt  Effie  is  experienced,  and  so  are  all  our  servants. 
I  expect  no  difficulty.  Yorke  can  go  to  the  Nueces  if 
it  becomes  necessary.  Why,  father,  Candace  and  Poly- 
dore  alone,  could  govern  the  affairs  of  this  place." 

"I  believe  you  are  right.    I  will  go." 

It  took  but  little  time  to  make  the  simple  prepara 
tions  needed,  and  Paul,  with  many  parting  injunctions 
touching  the  general  welfare,  went  forth  on  hfs  pil 
grimage.  "Write  me  every  month,  Yorke,  and  oftener 
if  you  find  it  necessary." 

"Look  for  me  when  you  fail  to  get  a  letter,  Felicia. 
I  know  I  am  leaving  my  family  in  the  best  of  care,"  he 
said,  as  he  pressed  Miss  Boling's  hand  in  parting. 

"Will  you  see  Basil,  father?"  asked  Felix. 

"I  would  hate  to  come  back  without  it,  and  I  think 
it  quite  probable  that  I  may  return  by  way  of  Lake 
Providence  and  New  Orleans." 

"How  well  your  father  looks,"  said  Miss  Euphemia, 
noting  the  girl's  despondency  after  the  parting.  He 
improved  from  the  first  moment  after  hearing  of  our 
interference  in  his  behalf." 

"Dear  father, — dear — dear  father."  And  with  the 
elasticity  of  youth  she  soon  resumed  her  duties  and 
pleasures  under  the  wise  supervision  of  her  beloved 


214  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

teacher  and  friend,  who  took  care  that  there  should 
be  but  little  time  left  for  sad  recollections;  and  yet 
Andrea's  name  was  a  household  word.  It  was  as 
though  she  were  still  present. 

"I  truly  believe  she  is  sometimes  here,"  said  the 
Indian  woman.  "Last  night  I  saw  her  in  my  dreams — 
she  was  smiling — and  I  told  her  that  Mahse  Paul  had 
gone  home.  When  I  told  her  that,  she  laughed  and 
said: 

"  'Oh,  I  knew  that,  Candace.'  I  tried  to  see  her  more 
plainly,  and  so  hard  did  I  try  that  I  woke.  She  is 
pleased  with  us  all.  Yes,  she  will  come  back." 

"I  cannot  contradict  you — and  neither  can  I  say  you 
are  right,"  said  Miss  Euphemia.  "It  is  a  happy  faith 
which  allows  you  to  believe  it." 

The  visits  of  Miss  Sanford  were  frequent,  often  last 
ing  for  days  when  her  father  and  sister  were  absent. 

"It  will  soon  come  to  pass — if  this  keeps  on — that 
I  will  have  my  mail  directed  to  your  care — I  live  here." 

She  had  a  wheeled  chair  of  new  invention  which 
made  the  short  distance  a  matter  of  small  moment.  The 
Sterlings  had  agreed  to  stay  until  Paul's  return  in 
Autumn,  when  they  would  move  into  the  little  cottage 
then  being  built  to  serve  as  a  residence  for  parson  or 
teacher. 

Paul's  letters  had  been  cheerful  from  the  beginning, 
but  news  of  Indian  depredations  had  reached  him  and 
although  confined  principally  to  the  mountainous  dis 
trict  in  the  West,  there  had  been  one  or  two  raids 
which  had  brought  them  in  thirty  miles  or  less  from 
his  ranch.  He  became  alarmed  and  early  in  September 
he  came  back.  In  fine  health,  but  declaring  that  he 
would  never  again  leave  his  family  exposed  to  such 
perils.  For  no  longer  than  ten  days  before  his  arrival 
a  band  of  Comanches  had  been  within  five  miles  of 
Little  Kosta.  A  party  of  rangers  had  checked  them, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  215 

killing  three  of  their  number  and  restoring  to  the  own 
ers  a  number  of  stolen  horses.  On  the  Cibolo  within 
twenty-five  miles  of  San  Antonio,  the  settlers  had  been 
more  unfortunate.  The  savages  killing  several  men 
and  boys  and  carrying  off  a  great  number  of  thorough 
bred  horses. 

"Were  you  very  much  frightened?" 

"Not  that  exactly — we  were  very  much  engaged  in 
turning  the  place  into  a  fort — not  sleeping  a  great  deal 
and  keeping  a  guard  out  for  days  and  nights.  We 
knew  the  rangers  were  scouting,  but  everyone  able  to 
bear  arms  was  provided  with  some  weapon,  and  there 
were  sixty-three  persons  in  our  fort.  We  passed  in 
and  out  about  the  place.  The  Indians  would  have 
passed  near  here,  but  the  morning  of  the  fight  the 
rangers  had  ambushed  them.  Three  of  their  stolen 
horses  had  broken  away  and  ran  into  our  corral.  One 
of  them  wore  an  Indian  saddle.  Yorke  and  his  gang 
were  at  that  point,  and  were  not  in  the  least  excited. 
We  expected  them  every  moment,  but  those  that  got 
away  passed  through  the  black-jacks  between  four  and 
five  miles  from  here,"  said  Miss  Boling,  smiling.  "We 
were  in  no  danger,  as  you  see." 

"In  no  danger — I  am  glad  I  did  not  hear  of  it  until 
as  long  as  there  was  really  no  danger.  But  the  next 
time  my  family  (and  I  include  my  brave  black  men, 
when  I  say  that)  are  so  near  to  being  tomahawked  and 
scalped  I  want  to  be  among  them.  And  it  may  sur 
prise  you  to  hear  that  the  longer  the  separation — the 
stronger  grew  their  claims  upon  me — until  I  was  lit 
erally  dragged  homeward  by  the  chain  of  affection." 


Berenger's  marriage  had  taken  place  late  in  Autumn 
of  the  preceding  year ;  there  had  been  a  prolonged  tour 
embracing  visits  to  several  points  of  interest  in  South 
America.  Felix  had  from  time  to  time  gained  these 


216  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

particulars  from  Laura  Houghton  and  others;  and 
when  her  father  told  her  that  the  couple  had  returned 
to  Texas  on  the  same  steamer  with  himself,  she  was 
surprised  at  her  own  apathy  and  indifference  as  con 
trasted  with  the  bitterness  of  her  grief  at  his  depart 
ure.  She  did  not  even  care  to  know  why  the  marriage 
was  delayed  so  long. 

"Randall  thinks  that  Archie  Berenger  would  have 
backed  out  at  the  last  moment  if  it  could  have  been  in 
any  honourable  way,"  said  Laura  Houghton.  "Archie 
himself  told  Larry  so  in  plain  words — or  what  amount 
ed  to  the  same  thing,  saying  he  had  not  seen  his  affi 
anced  since  they  were  eighteen,  and  that  now  he  might 
not  like  her;  and  perhaps  she  might  not  like  him.  It 
was  possible  they  might  agree  to  break  it  off.  There 
seems  to  be  some  business  matter  between  the  parents 
which  makes  the  marriage  one  to  be  desired.  Larry 
says  he  is  in  love  with  a  Texas  girl — but  would  not  tell 
me  who  it  is — or  was — for  of  course  after  meeting 
again  he  knew  which  he  preferred.  I  asked  Randall 
who  it  was — left  in  the  lurch,  and  begged  him  to  tell 
me ;  but  he  would  go  no  farther  than  to  assure  me  that 
I  was  not  the  one.  Felix,  I  believe  it  was  you." 

"I  am  quite  sure  it  was  not.  Don't  repeat  that, 
Laura.  I  tell  you  frankly,  I  will  not  like  it  if  you  do." 

"Don't  look  threatening.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of 
repeating.  But  I  may  tell  you  frankly,  that  I'm  not 
alone  in  my  belief — not  by  a  whole  neighborhood — two 
neighborhoods.  But  no  good  can  come  of  bringing  up 
all  that  was  said  about  it  at  one  time.  Mischievous 
gossip,  which  I  suppose  you  remember  as  well  as  I." 

"Some  one  told  Aunt  Effie  of  it,  but  she  seemed  to 
think  it  of  no  importance  and  only  warned  me  to  be 
careful.  I  felt  no  temptation  to  inquire  into  it."  After 
looking  at  her  fixedly  for  a  minute  or  two,  Laura 
said: — 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  217 

"Mother,  sister  and  I  are  going  to  call  on  Mrs.  Ber- 
enger  next  Thursday.  Will  you  come  down  to  our 
house  and  go  with  us?" 

"I  will  see." 

She  had  kept  her  eyes  on  the  ground  as  if  absorbed 
in  painful  recollections.  Andrea  was  exact  in  all  such 
duties  and  had  inculcated  the  trait  in  training  her 
children.  Knowing  her  duty, — for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  hesitated  what  to  do.  She  was  afraid  she 
could  never  gain  her  own  consent.  No.  She  would 
not  call  on  the  Berengers — she  did  not  wish  to  meet 
them,  and  certainly  would  not  go  out  of  her  way  to 
do  it;  besides,  they  belonged  to  another  neighborhood 
five  miles  away.  'Felix  had  seen  Mr.  Berenger  once  or 
twice  in  the  distance  and  once  meeting  him  in  the  road 
in  company  with  others,  both  parties  passed  by  with  a 
bow — neither  stopping  to  speak. 

The  weather  forecast  had  the  effect  of  a  damper 
upon  the  spirits  of  all  who  had  an  interest  in  farms  or 
live-stock  ranches ;  the  universal  gloom  spreading  over 
the  whole  of  Southwest  Texas,  it  naturally  follows,  that 
there  was  a  dull  winter  at  Little  Kosta.  The  Sterlings 
who  had  been  with  them  since  Paul's  visit  to  Charles 
ton,  were  going  to  leave.  Their  presence  in  the  house 
had  been  welcomed  from  the  first,  and  their  aid  and 
encouragement  given  at  the  time  of  the  Indian  raid 
could  not  be  over-estimated.  The  little  building  at 
Bethlehem,  intended  for  preacher  or  teacher,  was  fin 
ished  and  they  would  at  once  give  up  their  rooms  and 
occupy  it. 


218  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  XV. 

There  was  even  in  the  first  months  of  the  year,  1857, 
a  great  complaint  of  drouth.  The  last  heavy  rains  had 
fallen  in  October,  1856.  Since  which  only  a  few  light 
showers  scarce  wetting  the  surface  of  the  land. 

"Now,"  said  the  farmers,  "we  begin  to  know  how 
hog-wallow  prairies  are  made." 

Along  in  August  they  understood  the  process  more 
thoroughly.  Hog-wallow  prairie  land  is  the  richest  of 
all  land.  Its  black  soil  extends  from  five  feet  below  the 
surface  to  a  depth  not  to  be  measured.  Its  richness  is 
inexhaustible,  and  its  lasting  qualities  cannot  be 
guessed.  These  prairies  are  sometimes  miles  in  length 
and  width ;  but  often  of  only  a  few  acres ;  looking  to  the 
uninitiated  like  huge  potato  fields;  or  Liliputian  hills 
and  hollows  made  by  the  wallowing  of  hogs  in  soft 
mud.  The  cause  is  drouth. 

The  ground  cracks  to  the  depth  of  six  or  eight  feet, 
and  is  dangerous  to  the  horse  or  rider  who  has  a  mind 
to  make  good  time  as  he  rides  over  them,  either  for 
pleasure  or  business.  There  are  little  thickets  of  low 
growing  species  of  cat-claw  mingled  with  bull-nettle 
and  cacti,  that  no  animal  of  dog  size  can  enter.  This 
makes  it  good  running  for  the  fox  to  take  when  hard 
pressed — especially  in  wet  weather.  The  Texas  cow 
boy  can  make  the  trip  in  safety,  and  so  can  the  long- 
horn  he  may  be  chasing.  The  mustang  knows  his 
ground — but  not  the  American  horse  or  mule — either 
of  which  makes  little  headway.  When  the  rain  falls — 
or  rather  when  the  floods  come  down  from  Heaven,  as 
they  sometimes  do  in  a  West  Texas  shower,  these 
crevices  fill  up  with  the  rich  top  soil,  leaving  little  hills 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  219 

and  hollows.  These  hillocks  are  round  in  shape  for 
the  fissures  intersect  each  other;  and  it  is  after  rains 
that  the  little  pools  of  water  with  their  mushy  bottoms 
are  most  deceptive  and  dangerous. 

The  drouth  continued  until  all  hope  of  a  crop  of  any 
kind  was  abandoned.  The  cattle  were  dying  by  thou 
sands.  The  dreadful  destruction  caused  by  the  drouth 
of  1857,  is  remembered  to  this  day.  It  was  the  cause 
of  the  introduction  of  artesian  wells.  The  total  failure 
made  a  discussion  of  ways  and  means  obligatory  among 
those  who  had  no  money.  This  was  the  case  with  Paul 
Bathurst.  The  question  of  food  and  clothes  arose.  To 
obtain  these  alone — to  keep  a  family  of  upwards  of 
fifty  persons  in  food  and  clothing  was  a  subject  of 
consideration  at  all  times.  And  the  matter  was  made 
the  only  topic  of  conversation  in  the  evening  reunions 
of  the  family. 

"If  we  can  tide  over  this  year,  a  crop  next  year  one- 
half  as  good  as  any  of  the  preceding,  will  put  us  even," 
said  Bathurst. 

"But  suppose  there  should  be  another  drouth?" — 
ventured  Miss  Boling. 

"It  would  simply  be  ruin." 

"Mahster,"  said  Yorke,  next  day.  "Another  year 
like  this  would  ruin  us.  It's  de  middle  of  October,  an'- 
no  rain  since  de  same  time  las'  year." 

"Just  what  I  was  saying  last  evening.  Perhaps  we'll 
get  straight  next  year." 

"But  what  we  gwine  do  this  year?  It's  comin*  close 
on  us.  We  gottah  begin  to  study  'bout  it.  Dat  Nueces 
ranch  takes  a  lot  o'  money;  an'  I  can't  see  how  either. 
I  been  thinkin'  somethin'  wrong  out  dah.  I  don't 
b'lie.ve  dey's  totin'  fair  wid  us." 

"The  cattle  died  like  sheep,  Yorke,  there  were  no 
beeves  to  sell." 

"But,  Mahse  Paul,  what  become  o'  dem  hides?  Dey 
ain't  de  best  ob  hides.  But  did  we  git  de  value  of  one? 
Who  got  dat?" 


220  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Perhaps  no  one.  I  did  not  know  such  hides  could 
be  sold." 

"Dey  know'd  it.  You  bet  they  know'd  that  every  one 
ob  dem  hides — seven  or  eight  hundred — p'r'aps  twice 
that  many,  was  good  fer  three  dollahs  and  seventy-five 
cents.  Sen'  me  out  there,  Mahse  Paul.  Once  a  mont' 
will  do — The  swindlin'  will  stop  when  they  know  they 
are  wotched." 

"It's  too  late  for  that  now,  Yorke,  but  I'm  going  out 
there  oftener;  I'm  going  to  spend  half  my  time  there 
and  get  things  in  good  shape.  If  it  comes  to  the  worst, 
I  can  get  money  from  home ;  but  I  hope  we  won't  have 
to  call  for  help." 

"We  won't.  We  ought  to  hire  out  every  man,  woman 
and  child,  able  to  pick  cotton;  it  rained  good  on  de 
Brasos  and  dey  wants  hands.  Mahse  Paul,  let's  send 
'em.  It'll  settle  de  question  of  clothes  and  food  at  once. 
Besides  there's  some  of  the  Germans  round-about  here 
what  wants  house  servants." 

"No,  Yorke,  I  won't  separate  my  people  this  year, 
but  it's  cheering  to  know  how  willing  you  are  to  help 
me." 


A  letter  in  a  strange  hand-writing  had  come  for  Miss 
Boling.  It  announced  the  death  of  her  uncle  in  New 
York,  and  that  also  she  had  become  heir  to  property 
and  money  amounting  to  a  small  fortune.  Her  pres 
ence — her  immediate  presence  would  be  required.  She 
had  believed  her  uncle  to  be  little  more  than  a  pauper. 
It  was  wholly  unexpected. 

"You  will  have  to  go,"  said  Paul,  "but  do  not  feel 
badly.  I  have  for  a  long  time  been  thinking  of  send 
ing  Felicia  and  Kaspar  to  Charleston  on  a  visit  to  their 
grandmother  and  other  relatives,  and  we  will  get  them 
ready  to  go  with  you  as  far  as  your  route  lies  in  the 
same  direction,  you  will  likely  part  at  Galveston.  They 
could  easily  accomplish  the  journey  by  water  alone, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  221 

but  I  will  send  Polydore  and  Candace  with  them;  for 
it  will  be  good  for  these  old  people  to  revisit  their  old 
home." 

The  dread  of  immediate  parting  removed,  prepar 
ations  for  departure  were  at  once  begun.  It  was  Thurs 
day.  Miss  Boling  would  go  on  Monday.  On  Saturday 
she  visited  the  stores,  nearly  depleting  them  of  strong 
calicos  and  domestics,  which  she  bought  by  wholesale 
as  presents  for  the  black  folks.  On  Sunday  they  would 
go  to  church  at  Bethlehem,  knowing  that  the  greater 
number  of  their  mutual  acquaintances  would  be  there. 

When  told  of  the  proposed  visit,  Felicia's  heart  be 
gan  to  throb  painfully ;  she  was  going  to  visit  her  dar 
ling  mother's  grave;  she  would  be  so  near  to  her — so 
close  that  a  whisper  might  be  heard,  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible.  And  who  could  say  that  all  the  loving 
words — so  long  repressed  and  stored  away,  which, 
when  lying  face  downwards  on  the  grassy  mound 
above,  she  knew  she  would  repeat,  would  not  in  some 
way  be  made  to  reach  the  sleeper's  ear!  She  had  not 
even  yet  dared  to  think  of  their  parting — to  dwell  on 
the  sadness  of  it.  She  had  put  away  out  of  sight,  all 
reminders;  leaving,  however,  her  mother's  room  un 
changed,  for  that  was  her  father's  wish.  Now  she  was 
reminded  of  another  greif,  lying  dormant,  which  she 
had  stifled  in  the  same  way,  and  which  cried  out  in  a 
voice  that  would  not  be  stilled.  I  could  do  no  harm  to 
see  him,  the  man,  whom  even  to  herself  she  would  not 
say  that  she  loved.  Since  his  return  he  had  not  come 
to  this  church;  but  today  she  allowed  herself  to  hope 
that  he  would.  The  day  had  come,  and  she  had  scarcely 
taken  her  seat  when  he  came  in  with  others.  As  she 
had  never  seen  Mrs.  Berenger,  she  looked  over  the  as 
semblage  to  see  if  there  was  anyone  among  them  who 
might  resemble  the  picture  she  had  mentally  made  of 
her.  There  were  none  who  were  not  known  to  her, 
and  then  she  knew  he  was  alone.  After  services,  when 


222  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

she  saw  him  riding  away,  she  remarked  to  Miss  Boling, 
who  was  looking  curiously  at  the  receding  figure  of 
the  horseman. 

"There  is  Mr.  Berenger.  He  goes  without  a  parting 
word." 

"He  acts  like  a  stranger; — but  it  has  been  several 
months  since  we  met,  and  marriage  always  makes  a 
difference: — he  has  very  nearly  forgotten  us."  She 
looked  sharply  at  Felicia  for  some  minutes : — saying  to 
herself  when  the  inspection  was  over: — 

"It  is  not  so  bad  after  all.  I  wonder  how  much  of 
just  such  disappointment,  there  is  in  the  world.  Both 
the  man  and  the  girl,  seem  to  have  forgotten." 


Later  in  the  same  evening  Larry  Houghton  was  at 
Berenger's  place.  It  had  been  raining  at  short  inter 
vals  all  day ;  in  one  of  the  intervals,  while  trying  to  get 
home,  he  had  been  driven  in  here ;  now  it  was  pouring 
down.  It  was  also  growing  dark.  He  was  looking 
skyward. 

"Don't  think  of  reaching  home  tonight;  stay  with 
me — I  will  be  alone,  my  wife  is  visiting  across  the 
river.  I  had  word  from  her  an  hour  or  two  ago,  that 
she  would  stay  until  the  rain  was  over;  and  now  she 
could  not  come  if  she  wanted  to,  for  the  river  is  rising. 
Settle  yourself  and  we'll  have  one  of  our  old-time  bach 
elor  evenings." 

Books,  papers,  wine  and  cigars  were  placed  on  the 
table,  and  Larry  sat  down  by  the  lamp  to  read.  Ber 
enger  was  walking  on  the  veranda;  the  light  showers 
had  ceased — the  clouds  were  dispersed,  and  the  wind 
had  begun  to  rise.  Listening  to  the  restless  footsteps 
outside,  he  called  to  mind  how  different  from  the  gay 
bachelor  of  a  year  or  two  ago,  was  Berenger — the  Ben 
edict.  There  was  always  a  change — to  be  sure — but 
the  transformation  was  greater  and  differing  from 
what  it  ought  to  be;  and  the  difference  was  of  such  a 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  223 

nature  that  Larry  could  but  hope  it  was  due  to  some 
other  cause  than  marriage  might  bring;  perhaps  some 
temporary  embarrassment  in  business — something 
that  might  soon  be  tided  over.  The  rain  was  over 
and  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale ;  roaring  and  howling 
around  the  place,  and  making  further  reflection  im 
possible,  Berenger  was  forced  to  come  in  the  house. 
He  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  without  preface 
began  to  speak  with  repressed  excitement. 

"I  saw  Felix  Bathurst  to-day,  Larry,  and  I  must  tell 
someone  how  much  I  am  suffering.  When  you  came  in 
just  now,  I  had  begun  to  think  I  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  I  hope  that  is  something  you  can  put  down, 
(referring  to  the  book)  for  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  a  long 
talk." 

"It  is  about  a  matter  known  only  to  you,  myself,  and 
perhaps  Randal.  I  am  at  present  afraid  of  its  being 
found  out  by  others.  Do  you  remember  what  we  talked 
about  not  a  great  while  ago,  in  this  room,  at  this  table 
— and  almost  at  this  hour?" 

"Very  well.  I  had  been  driven  to  walk  three  miles 
through  the  sand  by  the  selfish  carelessness  of  others, 
and  you  took  me  in;  and  we  talked  of  the  young  lady 
whose  name  you  mentioned  a  minute  or  two  ago." 

"Yes  of  Felix.  I  told  you  what  my  intentions  were — 
that  I  would  break  the  engagement  between  myself  and 
Miss  Proctor,  now  my  wife.  You  are  the  only  man, 
woman  or  child  I  have  ever  told  of  it,  and  yet  my  wife 
knows  it.  How  did  she  learn?  It  seems  also  to  be 
known  in  the  neighborhood." 

"Not  from  any  imprudence  of  mine,  I'm  sure.  I 
have  never  mentioned  Miss  Bathurst's  name  in  con 
nexion  with  yours." 

"Then  how  did  my  wife  come  to  know?  She  knows 
all  but  the  name." 

"Yes  I  know.  She  does  know  all  but  the  name,  and 
she  came  to  Randal  when  she  ought  to  have  gone  to 
you,  for  an  explanation  of  a  letter  she  found  in  your 
desk.  A  letter  written  by  you  to  Randal  when  you 


224  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

were  away,  and  which  being  half  a  business  letter  he 
pigeon-holed  and  forgot  about.  It  was  deplorably  care 
less  of  him,  but  any  man  might  have  done  the  same. 
You  did  not  mention  any  name,  and  if  Randal  knows, 
he  did  not  tell  Mrs.  Berenger." 

Berenger  sat  thinking  for  many  minutes. 

"So  that  is  the  whole  secret.  It  would  be  incredible, 
if  I  did  not  know  of  other  peculiarities  belonging  to 
the  character  of  Mrs.  Berenger.  How  long  ago  was 
it?" 

"Over  a  month;  I  thought  you  had  been  told,  and 
had—" 

"Had  been  punished — you  mean." 

"No,  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  had  a  notion  it  might  be 
a  serious  matter.  I  was  bound  not  to  tell  what  I  knew, 
and  I  felt  a  delicacy  in  speaking  to  you  about  your 
wife — telling  on  her,  so  to  speak." 

"Delicacy!  You  needn't  feel  hampered  by  it  in 
speaking  to  any  of  my  family  after  this.  I  hope  Miss 
Bathurst  will  be  spared,  and  that  Mrs.  Berenger  will 
never  know  the  name  of  the  one  referred  to  in  the  let 
ter  ;  if  she  does,  there  will  be  a  very  little  show  of  either 
delicacy  or  refinement  in  the  result." 

"Don't  think  any  more  of  it,  Archie.  Mrs.  Berenger 
will  soon  forget  it.  Randal  told  her  that  it  in  all  prob 
ability,  it  was  a  pleasantry,  and  that  young  men  were 
in  the  habit  of  writing  just  such  letters  and  forgetting 
them  as  soon  as  written.  I  think  he  succeeded  in  per 
suading  her  to  take  his  view  of  it."  Instead  of  sooth 
ing,  increased  Archie's  displeasure  to  rage. 

"I'm  not  in  the  least  concerned  about  what  Mrs. 
Berenger  may  feel  in  regard  to  it ;  I'm  only  caring  for 
the  annoyance  such  a  blunder  might  cause  another.  One 
whose  friendship  will  be  my  dearest  possession  as  long 
as  I  live.  My  God !  I  might  as  well  go  to  the  Devil  at 
once !" 

Houghton,  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  under  the 
impression  that  Berenger  was  annoyed  by  his  wife's 
jealousy,  and  perhaps  regretful  of  her  unhappiness, 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  225 

which  was  so  palpable  that  Randal  had  noticed  it  and 
pitied  her,  was  now  alarmed.  If  the  brothers  had  been 
astounded  by  the  wife's  lack  of  reticence,  Larry  was 
very  nearly  silenced  by  this  outburst.  What  was  best 
to  be  said?  What  indeed  could  he  say — or  do?  The 
man  looked  unapproachable  in  his  desperation.  An  un 
usual  irritability  seized  upon  him,  and  he  exclaimed : — 

"If  that's  the  way  it  affects  you,  you  would  better 
not  look  at  Felix  at  all — or  speak  to  her;  you  had  bet 
ter  leave  the  country." 

"The  country  might  be  the  better  for  it.  But  she  will 
be  leaving  tomorrow  morning,  and  that  will  serve  your 
purpose.  And  in  the  meantime  I  may  find  some  way 
to  get  over  the  ground  without  being  a  scoundrel."  So 
saying,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  walking  about  the  floor 
for  a  little  time,  then  rearranging  some  books  scattered 
about  the  table,  he  returned  to  his  chair ;  and  reclining 
with  bowed  head,  sat  moodily  thinking. 

Although  there  was  an  expressed  impatience  in  his 
reply  to  Larry's  last  admonition — an  impatience  which 
had  the  effect  of  a  rebuff — Houghton  had  not  taken  it 
as  such;  and  now  as  he  gazed  sorrowfully  upon  him, 
all  his  sympathies  went  out  to  him ;  and  he  felt  that  he 
could  neither  ever  find  fault  with,  nor  lecture  him 
again. 

"Felix  knows  nothing  of  this,  does  she,  Archie?" 
"No.    And  we  need  never  speak  of  it  again,  Larry. 
I  am  the  chief  sinner  and  it  is  best  not  to  draw  on 
others  for  help,  but  to  accept  my  penance  in  silence." 


The  drouth  still  continued;  stretching  out  over  all 
the  Southwest.  All  the  small  streams  were  dry;  the 
shallow,  connecting  links  of  the  larger  ones,  were  also 
destitute  of  moisture ;  and  only  the  long  deep  pools  held 
water  for  the  famishing  cattle.  These  pools  were  fed 
by  springs  and  seemed  inexhaustible;  but  the  grass  and 


226  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

herbage  had  been  eaten  away  for  miles  beyond  the  val 
leys,  and  the  journeys  between  food  and  water  were  of 
such  length  as  to  exhaust  the  strength  of  the  enfeebled 
and  starving  animals. 

There  was  little  vegetation  anywhere.  Thousands  of 
cattle,  horses  and  sheep  were  dying  daily.  Corn  and 
hay  were  being  imported  largely,  but  in  nowise  suffi 
cient  quantities  to  serve  the  market. 

"If  it  doesn't  rain  soon  there  will  be  no  winter  range 
for  the  few  cattle  still  left,"  said  Neighbor  Hargous. 

"Another  year  like  this  and  we're  ruined,"  said  Mr. 
Turner.  "Even  the  liveoaks  are  turning  brown." 

"Eet  iss  ver'  bad,"  said  Pancho,  the  head  vaquero. 
"Eet  wass  from  mi  padre,  Senor  Paul,  no  vi  jamas  tal 
cosa,  he  tol'  me.  Mi  padre  lo  han  dicho — eet  wass  mi 
abuelo.  Entiende,  Senor?" 

"Your  grandfather?'" 

"Si,  Senor,  mi  padre  dijo,  my  grandfather  tiene  mas 
ochenta  anos — w'en  he  was  live.  He  sayess,  El  Rio 
San  Antonio  wass  dry  in  his  floor.  No  agua  por  irri 
gate — noyerba  por  las  vaccas,  no  trigo  nado.  Eet  wass 
in  mission  time — this  d — d — r — r — " 

"Drouth." 

"Si  Senor,  this  drouth.  Ah,  Senor!  Eet  will  come 
no  more  to  us." 

"God  send  it  may  not!"  said  Paul  fervently.  "Once 
in  a  hundred  years  is  quite  enough." 


The  Meaths  would  be  compelled  to  go  west  again. 
They  were  going  to  put  all  their  cattle  in  one  pasture, 
having  sold  part  of  their  pasture  lands  for  money  to 
buy  forage  for  winter.  Retrenchment  was  in  order, 
but  Mr.  Meath  still  hoped  to  become  the  owner  of  the 
L.  K.  Ranche." 

The  havoc  had  been  fearful.  Paul  had  been  luckier 
than  many  others,  but  his  expenses  would  increase  with 
the  coming  cold  weather;  and  if  in  a  few  days,  there 
would  be  no  rain,  half  of  his  remaining  cattle  would 
die.  He  had  now  resolved  to  send  for  his  children.  Not 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  227 

Basil,  but  Felicia  and  Daisy.  His  heart  ached  for  them. 
He  had  hitherto  opposed  their  coming,  but  now  in  a 
few  days  the  house  would  be  empty.  His  presence  at 
the  Nueces  Ranch  would  not  now  be  so  often  necessary. 
The  negroes  could  hardly  wait  for  the  Meaths  to  vacate 
the  premises  before  taking  from  its  place  of  storage, 
the  furniture;  and  replacing  it  in  the  old  familiar 
places.  For  many  months  had  elapsed  and  the  child 
ren  were  on  their  way  home.  A  slow  rain  began  to 
fall,  and  so  continued  for  intervals  for  weeks  through 
out  the  whole  Southwest.  The  long  drouth  was  over 
and  the  hopes  of  the  planters  revived  with  the  growing 
grass;  promising  an  assured  supply  for  the  winter; 
with  however  the  remaining  necessity  of  importing 
rough  forage  at  the  beginning  of  spring,  when  a  diet 
of  the  young  and  tender  grass  and  herbage,  unmixed 
with  hay  or  other  dried  food,  proves  to  be  productive 
of  evil  effects  second  only  to  those  of  starvation.  Here 
was  an  additional  expense. 

The  young  travelers  were  at  home.  The  visit  had 
been  an  agreeable  one  to  all  concerned.  With  their 
Uncle  Darius  and  Aunt  Aurelia  they  had  made  a  flying 
trip  to  Newport,  and  had  seen  Miss  Boling  at  her  new 
home  in  New  York.  But  sitting  close  on  each  side  of 
their  father,  they  told  him  with  truth,  that  this  was 
their  happiest  moment  of  all.  Then  Felicia  began  to 
tell  of  the  great  hapipness  she  had  found  in  the  society 
of  her  grandmother  and  the  old  ladies  who  visited  her ; 
and  also  in  the  almost  daily  calls  of  Darius,  which  were 
a  source  of  pleasure,  appreciated  as  much  by  Mrs. 
Bathurst  as  by  her  grandchildren. 

The  child  of  his  favorite  sister,  he  observed  with 
pride  the  openly  expressed  admiration  created  by  her 
beauty  whenever  she  appeared  with  him  at  public  places 
of  amusement  or  on  the  streets.  To  her  great  wonder 
ment  he  helped  to  plan  her  toilettes  with  faultless  taste 
and  skill.  Her  mother,  she  remembered,  had  once  told 
her  of  this  unusual  accomplishment. 


228  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Mrs.  Bathurst,  who,  though  a  person  of  refinement 
and  culture,  was  not  a  woman  of  the  world,  now  be 
stirred  herself,  and  gave  the  most  delightful  little  din 
ners  and  tea-parties: — at  which,  in  a  gown  of  black 
velvet  and  superb  old  lace,  she  was  one  of  the  chief 
ornaments. 

It  was  several  days  after  the  home-coming,  and  Fe 
licia  while  describing  these  and  other  pleasant  hap 
penings,  had  touched  upon  nothing  that  could  be  con 
strued  as  disagreeable.  Now  she  asked  her  father  what 
Basil  had  done.  She  had  come  upon  her  grandmother 
and  uncle  one  evening  when  they  were  talking  about 
Basil: — they  were  saying  something  about  debts;  but 
stopped  speaKing  as  soon  as  she  appeared  in  the  door 
way.  As  it  was  plain  they  did  not  want  her  to  know 
she  did  not  inquire. 

"Did  you  hear  anything  of  the  sort,  father?" 

"Yes.  Basil  wrote  to  me  first ;  and  in  answer  I  wrote 
to  him  that  his  debts  would  have  to  wait  like  my  own. 
It  was  not  until  a  month  later  that  he  wrote  a  most 
contrite  letter,  telling  me  that  his  uncle  had  paid  his 
debts,  and  besides,  had  given  him  a  lecture  that  would 
last  him  a  lifetime." 

"That  is  just  how  I  thought  it  was.  I  do  not  think 
there  is  another  man  in  the  whole  world  like  Uncle 
Darius.  We  can  never  hope  to  repay  him  for  what  he 
does  for  us,  because  he  never  needs  help.  Basil  knew 
he  would  get  that  money — that  Uncle  Darius  would 
pay  it,  if  only  to  maintain  his  standing  at  the  Univers 
ity.  I'm  glad  he  suffered  under  the  shame  of  owing 
a  debt  he  couldn't  pay.  It  was  a  just  punishment.  And, 
father,  isn't  my  share  of  these  debts  considerable?  I 
was  owing  bills  everywhere  when  I  left?" 

"I  think  not,  Felicia.  I  believe  we  owe  most  for  nec 
essaries  equally  shared  by  all,  clothing,  farming  uten 
sils,  lumber  and  other  countless  things  used  on  a  place 
like  ours.  But  Felicia — why  do  you  wish  to  know?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  229 

"Oh,  father,  I  must  know.  My  part  in  this  must  be 
enormous;  and  I  was  thinking  of  increasing  the 
amount." 

"There  is  no  need  of  retrenchment  on  your  part ;  buy 
all  you  need.  I  have  told  you  that  at  the  end  of  next 
year  I  hope  to  have  everything  in  better  shape. 

"No,  my  trunks  and  boxes  are  packed  with  presents ; 
I  hardly  know  what  I  have ;  many  of  my  boxes,  as  you 
already  have  seen,  were  sent  as  freight." 

"Yes,  we  will  open  them  to-morrow." 

"They  are  from  Aunt  Sarah,  Aunt  Aurelia,  Grandma 
and  all  the  others ;  not  leaving  out  Uncle  Sam,  who  gave 
me  some  pretty  foreign  ornaments;  trinkets,  he  called 
them,  and  warned  the  others  not  to  forget  to  pay  the 
freight.  You  may  guess  the  effect  of  it;  the  message 
was  sent  by  Grandma,  who  passed  it  on  to  Hypolite." 

"Your  Uncle  is  a  practical  man,"  said  Paul,  smiling. 

"Aunt  Sarah  gave  me  the  Darius  necklace  of  pearls. 
I  did  not  want  them,  but  she  said  she  no  longer  cared 
for  jewels  and  wanted  me  to  have  and  to  wear  them 
while  young.  That  with  a  certain  kind  of  evening  dress 
they  could  be  worn  while  in  mourning.  I  wore  them 
with  a  gown  of  heavy  soft,  dead  white  Gros  de  Naples 
silk,  to  the  ball  at  Charleston,  and  one  evening  at  New 
port.  That  evening  at  Newport,  Aunt  Aurelia,  who 
had  not  seen  it  before,  shrieked  when  I  came  into  the 
hall  where  she  and  Uncle  Darius  were  waiting.  She 
thought  it  was — of  course,  not  really  mother — but  there 
were  only  those  two  in  the  hall,  and  the  light  was  dim ; 
this  making  my  hair  and  eyes  appear  darker,  I  could 
see,  myself,  that  I  resembled  mother.  Aunt  Aurelia  is 
superstitious,  and  could  hardly  be  persuaded  that  I 
was  not  a  'passing  spirit.'  Uncle  Darius  was  also 
shocked." 

"Miss  Aurelia  is  right,  there  are  'passing  spirits,'  " 
said  Candace.  "We  many  not  always  see  them.  I  have 


230  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

never  seen  them — except  in  dreams — but  they  are  here ; 
they  must  be  here;  for  at  times  like  this  I  feel  their 
presence.  And  why  should  they  not  be  here?" 

After  a  long  silence,  Paul  answered. 

"In  truth — why  not?  The  time  may  not  be  far  off 
when  such  a  condition  may  cease  to  be  classed  with 
miracles  or  regarded  as  supernatural.  There  is  no 
doubt  we  would  all  be  happier,  if  we  were  not  so  skep 
tical.  Keep  your  beliefs,  Candace;  such  faith  can 
neither  harm  yourself  or  others.  I  would  not  dare  to 
call  them  hallucinations." 

"It  makes  me  happy;  and,  blessed  be  God,  I  have 
never — sleeping  or  waking — dreamed  of  evil  spirits  or 
felt  their  influence,"  she  answered. 

Felix,  taking  heed  in  only  a  half  attentive  way  to 
what  was  going  on  about  her,  had  nevertheless  formed 
an  opinion  of  the  desperate  state  of  her  father's  finan 
cial  affairs ;  inwardly  resolving  to  take  the  burden  upon 
her  own  shoulders.  Ah!  Here  was  something  to  do; 
something  that  called  for  deeds,  and  not,  to  a  nature 
like  hers,  for  words. 

"No,  father,  I,  at  least,  will  stop  buying,  my  stock 
of  dry  goods  is  enormous,  and  I  have  endless  other 
things.  We  will  retrench  in  all  but  the  necessaries  of 
life." 


The  following  month  was  given  to  receiving  and  re 
turning  visits ;  the  latter  only  when  not  interfering  with 
the  more  serious  work  at  home.  An  almost  daily  ex 
change  with  the  Sanfords,  now  the  head-quarters  of 
the  literary  society.  The  Virginia  colony  had  been  re 
inforced  by  several  families  who  increased  the  stock 
of  books  on  hand ;  besides  being  possessed  of  sufficient 
money  to  change  the  possibility  of  building  a  church 
into  a  certainty.  The  Old  Mission  site  having  been 
agreed  upon,  and  the  necessary  outlying  acres  bought 
and  paid  for :  the  work  was  in  full  blast,  and  the  build- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE  ROUTE  231 

ing  would  soon  be  finished — by  clever  management  and 
unheard  of  good  luck,  not  costing  half  what  it  would  be 
worth.  As  might  be  expected  there  would  be  a  debt, 
hanging  over,  but  it  would  be  small  and  by  joint  effort 
could  be  liquidated  in  a  very  short  time. 

The  name  adopted  was  "St.  Andrew."  How,  why, 
or  by  whom  so  called,  could  not  be  determined.  Indeed 
the  term  was  in  general  use  before  any  questions  were 
asked.  One  workman,  a  German  living  nearby,  coming 
early  one  morning  found  an  aged  Mexican  examining 
the  ruined  wall;  with  some  excitement  he  showed  him 
a  stone  on  which  was  carved  the  name — "Andres."  This 
was  understood  by  some  to  mean  the  original  name  of 
the  church,  or  perhaps  the  architect.  Nevertheless, 
however,  it  may  have  been,  it  was  now  St.  Andrew. 

The  site  of  the  new  Episcopal  church  was  chosen 
wisely.  The  Guadalupe  river  here  makes  a  run  more 
like  an  ox-bow  than  a  horseshoe — the  bend  taking  in 
some  ten  acres  of  low-lying,  gravelly  land — growing 
coarse  grasses  and  flowers ;  and  showing  to  the  experi 
enced  eye,  signs  of  former  cultivation  by  irrigation; 
an  oblong  heap  of  broken  stone  carefully  placed,  form 
ing  two  sections  of  a  dam,  was  evidence  enough  to  sup 
port  the  truth  of  this  supposition ;  as,  but  for  this,  there 
was  no  bank  there.  On  the  other  side  the  water  runs 
swiftly  and  deeply — foaming,  eddying,  curling — it 
strikes  the  almost  perpendicular  bank  like  a  small  ocean 
wave.  The  bank  itself,  is  near  twenty  feet  high,  and 
rising  back  of  its  edge  and  close  upon  it,  was  a  mound- 
shaped,  stony  hill,  embracing  four  or  five  acres,  and 
covered  by  an  impenetrable  thicket  of  undergrowth, 
above  the  highest  point  of  which  could  be  seen  what 
appeared  to  be  the  rugged  outline  of  a  natural  stone 
pillar.  The  examining  committee  believing  this  to  be 
an  ancient  ruin  and  searching  further  along,  found 
that  certain  dilapidated  huts, — reputed  to  have  been 
occupied  at  odd  times  during  the  past  fifty  years  by 
Mexicans  or  nomad  Indians — had  but  one  stone  wall; 
patched  and  bearing  the  marks  of  age ;  the  other  walls 


232  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

and  roofs  being  made  of  whatever  came  to  hand.  Traces 
of  portholes  were  discovered  in  the  miserable  shed,  now 
occupied  by  a  Mexican  and  his  family,  which  proved 
beyond  a  doubt  that  this  wall  had  once  served  as  a  for 
tification. 

"What's  up  there?"  asked  the  scientist  of  the  explor 
ing  party,  speaking  to  the  man  of  the  house,  a  day  or 
two  before  the  uncovering  of  the  old  foundation. 

"Nothing.  It's  a  sharp  hill;  I  go  to  the  top  with 
machete,  and  I  find  nothing : — grass,  bushes,  and  much 
thorns.  There's — pajaros — what  you  call  birds,  and 
snakes.  The  same  as  other  chaparral.'" 

"Good  Lord!    Will  you  clean  it  up  for  us?" 

"No,  senor.  I  belong  to  wagon-train.  I  go  at  four 
of  the  clock,  manana,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  a  well 
set  up  cart  and  some  half-dozen  oxen,  a  little  way  off. 

"Ah!  that  is  how  you  learned  English!" 

"Si,  senor,"  he  laughed,  showing  a  double  row  of 
dazzling  white  teeth.  "I  take  family."  Plainly,  he  had 
enough  to  do. 

When  the  jungle  had  been  cleared  away,  there  was 
no  question  of  its  having  been,  at  least,  a  military  post, 
if  not,  what  its  present  outline  dimly  suggested — a  mis 
sion.  It  was  probably  one  of  the  eight  half  militante, 
half-religious  stations  ordered  built  by  the  Spanish 
government  in  the  country  lying  east  of  the  Rio 
Grande,  then  called  the  New  Phillipines — now  Texas. 
The  exact  time  of  their  erection  and  occupation  could 
hardly  be  determined  by  the  ancient  M.  S.  S.  now  in 
the  Public  Record  Office  of  San  Antonio  de  Bexar,  for 
it  antedates  that  of  the  Five  Missions,  hereinbefore 
mentioned : — the  time  of  the  "erreccion"  of  the  Alamo, 
San  Juan,  and  San  Francisco  de  la  Espada,  being  given 
as  1720,  the  others  later.  We  know,  however,  that  they 
were  established  in  what  might  be  termed  the  Spanish 
Colonial  period ;  which  began  with  the  death  of  the  last 
Montezuma,  in  1521,  and  ended  at  the  withdrawal  of 
Don  Juan  Donoju,  the  last  Spanish  viceroy,  in  1821 — 
a  period  of  three  hundred  years.  And,  also,  that  they 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  233 

were  designed  as  a  barrier  against  the  invasion  of  any 
other  nations  coveting  the  rich  gold  and  silver  mines 
of  Mexico.  Again  we  read  that  because  of  a  revolution 
in  1693-94,  the  garrisons  are  recalled,  and  by  order  of 
the  government,  they  are  to  be  abandoned  and  de 
molished  ;  as  it  would  not  do  to  leave  them  standing — 
there  being  neither  sense  nor  discretion  in  furnishing 
so  many  strong-holds  to  a  foreign  enemy.  Some  his 
torians  assert  that  the  lack  of  such  supplies  as  food, 
clothing  and  ammunition  was  the  cause  of  the  breaking 
up  of  these  posts — not  mentioning  the  more  urgent  need 
of  trained  soldiers  in  time  of  revolution.  Their  recall 
was  inevitable.  Perhaps  in  the  Archives  of  Mexico; 
but  more  aptly  lying  among  the  buried  treasures  of 
some  ancient  convent  or  monastery,  may  rest  the  story 
that  will  give  names,  dates,  deeds  and  all.  But,  as  the 
matter  stands  at  present,  the  fact  that  the  French  were 
claiming  the  greater  part  of  Texas  and  that  LaSalle 
had  built  Fort  St.  Louis  on  the  Lavaca  river,  in  1685, 
throws  a  doubt  on  the  assumption  that  the  Spanish 
Missions  were  not  in  existence  before  that  time ;  espec 
ially  as  Spain  had  claimed  all  this  territory  from  the 
first,  as  shown  on  the  ancient  maps  of  the  Empire  of 
Mexico,  it  wrould  be  strange  indeed  if  she  had  failed  to 
colonize  in  her  usual  way  until  1685 — one  hundred  and 
sixty-four  years  after  the  Conquest  of  Mexico.  The 
justice  of  either  claim — of  French  or  Spanish — was,  it 
seems,  to  be  decided  by  force  of  arms.  It  must  be  re 
membered  that  every  settlement  must  needs  be  a  Mis 
sion;  as  both  sword  and  cross  were  indespensible  in 
Christianizing  the  ferocious  Indian  tribes  which 
roamed  over  the  prairies  of  Southwest  Texas ;  the  few 
white  families  which  may  or  may  not  have  formed  part 
of  the  community,  not  daring  to  leave  the  near  vicinity 
of  the  post  with  its  strongly  fortified  walls ;  the  ruins 
of  which  are  now  marked  only  by  unrecognizable,  chap 
arral  covered  mounds,  without  even  a  traditional  his 
tory.  But,  as  said  before,  the  making  of  history  in 
countries  dominated  by  the  Roman  Church,  was  in  this 


234  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

instance  left  in  the  hands  of  a  clergy,  the  devoted  mem 
bers  of  which  were  known  to  be  learned  men — sworn  to 
their  duty — and,  as  this  was  part  of  it,  we  can  do 
naught  but  dream,  and  in  fancy  picture  the  sometimes 
peaceful,  sometimes  turbulent — or  terrible — scenes 
through  which  they,  perforce,  must  have  lived  and  in 
which  may  have  taken  part. 

Although  this  lovely  spot  is  not  directly  on  "The 
King's  Highway" — but  at  the  end  of  one  of  the  branch 
ing  roads  connecting  with  this  old  thoroughfare — it 
must  have  been  in  its  day  and  time,  a  place  of  rest ;  an 
oasis — a  goal  sought  by  all  who  came  that  way.  Two 
hundred  years  ago !  More  than  that  now  in  the  Year  of 
Our  Lord,  1911 — but  at  the  time  of  its  resurrection  and 
restoration — one  and  three  quarters  of  a  century  old. 

Along  the  Highway  of  the  World!  Who  may  not 
"have  come  that  way!"  We  know  that  bands  of  out 
casts — thieves,  robbers,  murderers,  and  ferocious  sav 
ages  came  in  hordes,  and  of  their  frequent  skirmishes 
in  the  open  as  well  as  of  their  much  more  to  be  dreaded 
night-attacks,  we  have  read: — and  also  of  the  sieges, 
lasting  for  weeks,  which  caused  the  tunnelling  from 
the  old  church  to  the  river.  But  may  there  not  have 
been  another  order  of  humanity — a  kind  who  came  as 
guests  to  meet  those  of  gentle  birth,  whose  home  was 
here.  Such  as  De  Ayllon,  De  Narvaez,  De  Soto  and 
Juan  Ponce  De  Leon ;  he,  who  had  made  long  journeys 
by  land,  including  voyages  by  water,  in  search  of  "The 
Fountain  of  Youth" : — discovering  landings,  opening 
ports  and  founding  cities  and  towns.  Marking  stations 
on  "Blazed  Trails,"  he  named  them — calling  the  longest 
and  widest  of  them  all — "El  camino  real  del  Rey." 

Besides  these  and  other  leaders  engaged  in  trading 
and  colonizing — plunging  into  hazardous  enterprises 
and  ventures  in  which  success  meant  untold  wealth 
and  power,  it  goes  without  saying  that  with  such,  if 
only  as  convoy  or  armed  escort,  there  came  another 
class  with  the  same  or  even  higher  ideals;  to  whom 
the  perils  of  pathless  deserts  and  unknown  seas,  were 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  235 

small  risks  when  weighed  with  the  reward  in  view. 
Soldiers  of  fortune  from  all  nations—Spanish  Cavaliers, 
sons  of  proud  old  families,  young  rovers  of  high  degree 
in  search  of  Fame;  believing  that  in  striving  for  the 
honours  which  it  brings,  they  were  playing  for  the 
highest  stake. 

For  this  was  the  "Age  of  Chivalry."  In  the  closing 
years  of  a  period  when  warriors  encased  themselves 
from  head  to  foot  in  panoplies  of  armored  steel,  and 
carried  medieval  weapons, — the  triggered  cross-bow 
and  the  arbalest — and  a  little  later — the  petronel  and 
heavy  harquebus.  But  now  it  was  with  musket  and 
sword,  and  perhaps  helmet  of  cork  and  shirt  of  mail, 
they  forced  their  way.  Did  they  stop  here?  If  so,  let 
the  imagination  picture  the  scene  on  the  arrival  of  such 
a  cavalcade.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  reasonable  to  sup 
pose  that  all  such  would  be  more  than  welcomed.  It  is 
also  a  well-authenticated  fact,  that  all  who  passed  may 
not  have  entered,  for  long  before  and  after  the  existence 
of  this  isolated  Mission,  a  stream  of  humanity,  nameless 
adventurous  wanderers — stragglers — braving  the  well- 
known  dangers  of  a  wilderness,  had  come  this  way : — 
alone  or  in  numbers,  with  faces  to  the  west,  like  Pil 
grims  to  a  shrine — walking  or  riding  along  "The  King's 
Highway" : — a  public  road,  reaching  across  a  continent, 
and  laid  out  four  hundred  years  ago ! 


!For  several  months  past  the  Sanfords  had  as  an  in 
mate  a  Mrs.  Robinson,  the  widow  of  a  distant  cousin 
of  theirs,  who  died  of  fever  in  New  Orleans  several 
years  before.  This  woman  was  a  born  leader,  and 
notwithstanding  the  depression  caused  by  the  discour 
aging  conditions  of  previous  years,  insisted  upon  the 
building  of  the  church  upon  a  design,  which  would 
take  more  than  double  the  money  agreed  upon  by  those 
out  of  whose  pockets  the  major  portion  would  have  to 
come.  Besides  planning  ahead  the  outdoor  sports,  such 
as  fishing  and  hunting  parties,  picnics,  etc.,  she  had 
organized  a  series  of  entertainments — tableaux,  pri- 


236  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

vate  theatricals  and  musicals,  for  the  purpose  of  rais 
ing  some  extra  funds  to  be  used  in  finishing  the  church, 
and  also  the  parsonage.  She  was  sure  she  could  man 
age  the  staging  of  the  tableaux  and  plays  for  she  had 
assisted  and  taken  part  in  such  entertainments  ever 
since  she  was  old  enough  to  remember, — once  when 
there  was  a  vacancy,  playing  with  professionals;  but 
every  one  concerned  in  this  enterprise  had  begun  to 
doubt  the  integrity  of  Mrs.  Robinson. 

"What  kind  of  professionals  do  you  suppose  they 
were?"  Mrs.  Andrews,  asked  of  her  sister  when  alone. 
"She  thinks  it  would  pay  best  to  have  the  exhibition  in 
San  Antonio."  They  had  begun  to  doubt  her  in  many 
ways  hardly  believing  that  she  was  ever  really  married 
to  their  cousin. 

There  had  been  some  opposition  to  building  exactly 
on  the  site  of  the  old  Mission  church,  but  wiser  counsels 
prevailed,  and  upon  close  examination,  it  was  decided 
to  use  it,  as  it  would  but  little  further  increase  the  cost. 
It  had  been  nearly  a  year  since  the  work  was  begun, 
and  it  would  soon  be  finished.  Spanish-Mexican  artists 
were  now  engaged  in  putting  some  pretty  frescoes  on 
the  walls  and  vaulted  roof.  There  was  a  debt,  but  as 
Mrs.  Robinson  asserted,  a  fair  would  go  far  to  liquidate 
that.  The  Rev.  John  Duffield  was  already  installed 
in  the  pretty  frame  cottage  which  served  as  a  parson 
age.  A  month  later  he  had  driven  around  to  all  the 
houses  in  the  country — belonging  to  the  rich  as  well  as 
the  poor,  of  every  class  and  sect, — inviting  each  and 
all  to  hear  his  first  sermon  and  witness  the  consecra 
tion  of  his  church, — to  be  called  St.  Andrew's.  This 
was  the  first  public  announcement  of  the  name. 

"After  you,  Elinor,"  laughed  Miss  Lewellyn  Sanford. 

"Quite  appropriate,"  was  the  sedate  reply.  "Although 
our  cousin  would  rather  have  it  St.  Cecelia.  What  do 
you  think  her  next  movement  will  be?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  237 

"Between  you  and  me  and  the  gate-post,  I  think  I 
know  what  her  next  move  will  be." 

"You  mean  marriage?" 

"Yes." 

"And  to  Paul  Bathurst?" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Lewellyn,  seriously. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her  chances — do  you  think 
she  will  find  him  an  easy  prey  ?  I  can  remember  noth 
ing  that  indicates  the  least  bit  of  concern  about  her,  in 
any  shape.  Do  you  think  it  possible  he  would  be 
brought  to  marry  such  a  woman?" 

"I  believe  he  would  as  soon  think  of  marrying  Ritta, 
the  cook." 

"Then  that  ends  it.  How  could  she  marry  him,  in 
that  case?" 

"How  did  she  marry  poor  Wade  Robinson?  It  crossed 
my  mind  first,  when  she  expressed  her  regret  at 
Felicia's  return.  'Why  does  she  come  back?  Why 
didn't  she  stay  with  her  relatives?  Does  she  intend  to 
keep  house?'  were  the  questions  she  poured  forth — 
declaring  that  she  would  see  her  friend  Mr.  Bathurst, 
and  convince  him  of  the  impropriety  of  it.  A  beautiful 
girl  of  seventeen,  who  ought  to  be  in  the  schoolroom." 

"Are  you  not  afraid  he  might  question  your  mo 
tives?"  I  asked. 

"Not  I — who  cares  if  he  does?  Do  you  mean  he  may 
think  I  want  to  marry  him?  If  that's  all,  I've  refused 
sprightlier  men." 

"And  of  course,  would  refuse  him  ?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  as  yet." 

"I  don't  think  Paul  Bathurst  will  ever  marry  again — 
I  told  her — and,  although  Felix  would  do  her  duty,  in 
any  case,  I  do  not  think  she  would  like  her  father  to 
take  another  wife." 

"Her  preferences  would  have  little  weight  with  me, 
and  would  receive  no  consideration,  if  I  decided  to  set 
my  cap  for  him.  And  if  she  happened  not  to  behave 
afterwards,  I'd  soon  settle  her  objections.  I'd  show 
her  who  held  the  first  place — a  wife's  place." 


238  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"What  a  coarse  person  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Andrews. 
If  it  weren't  for  the  real  good  she  has  done  in  the  neigh 
borhood, — in  many  instances — I'd  try  to  find  some  way 
to  rid  the  country  of  her.  Of  late  she  never  speaks 
of  going  back!  She  always  says  that, — never — going 
home." 

"If  her  efforts  had  ever  been  in  the  least  dis 
interested,  I  could  be  very  sorry  for  her?"  said  Miss 
Sanford,  after  a  thoughtful  pause.  "But  as  she  herself 
expresses  it — she  has  always  taken  care  to  feather  her 
own  nest." 

"Such  a  woman  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man  like  Paul 
Bathurst!  A  coarse, — vulgar,  unprincipled  adven 
turess  !  I  am  truly  glad  she  is  not  of  my  blood.  I  have 
always  had  the  feeling  of  being  in  league  with  her — 
the  simple  fact  of  her  being  an  inmate  of  our  house, 
humiliates  and  puts  me  to  shame.  If  she  marries  him, 
I  will  always  feel  like  an  accomplice  in  the  ruin  of  one 
of  the  sweetest  families  I  have  ever  known." 

"Let  us  hope  that  we  may  be  mistaken  in  our  fears. 
She  knows  that  he  is  not  rich,"  said  Lewellyn. 

"In  her  estimation  anyone  with  that  amount  of  prop 
erty  is  rich.  Let  us  rather  hope,  that  by  a  divine  in 
terposition  of  Providence,  the  evil  may  be  averted.  It 
would  be  the  wolf  preying  upon  the  lambs,  and  we  are 
responsible  for  the  introduction  of  the  animal  into  this 
settlement." 

"If  you  feel  like  that,  let  us  begin  to  do  something; — 
let  us  try  at  least  to  avert  the  misfortune.  Let  us  find 
out  more  about  that  second  marriage ;  and  see  if  there 
is  truth  in  the  reports  father  heard  when  he  was  in 
Virginia  last  year." 

"I  will  write  a  couple  of  letters  at  once,"  said  Mrs. 
Andrews,  going  to  her  room  without  delay.  Returning 
with  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  she  seated  herself  at  a  little 
table  near  her  sister,  saying : — 

"We  owe  it  to  ourselves  to  clear  the  country  of  her; 
and  if  we  learn  what  I  believe  we  will,  in  the  answers 
to  these  letters,  we  can  force  her  to  seek  more  congenial 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  239 

quarters;  and  not  being  gifted  with  keen  insight,  we 
will  have  to  tell  her  outright  of  her  mistaken  belief  that 
she  is  a  leader  among  people  who  know  her  for  what 
she  is  and  despise  her." 

"Not  all  of  them,  Elinor ;  there  are  many,  especially 
among  the  men  who  admire  her  for  her  prettiness  and 
springhtliness." 

"That  is  just  why  I  am  writing  these  letters.  She  is 
bent  upon  getting  into  Miss  Boling's  place ;  and  is  try 
ing  to  create  the  impression  that  she  has  been  solicited 
to  take  it.  Mr.  Berenger  asked  me  yesterday  if  it  was 
at  all  likely  that  she  would.  From  the  trend  of  his  man 
ner  and  words,  I  know  that  he  was  thinking  along  the 
same  lines  as  we  are  compelled  to  think.  'Was  she 
really  related  to  us?'  he  asked.  And  when  I  told  him 
she  was  not,  he  asked  so  many  questions  about  how 
long  and  what  we  had  known  of  her,  that  I  inquired  if 
he  himself  was  acquainted  with  her.  "In  New  Orleans, 
perhaps  he  may  have  seen  her,  but  here  he  had  not 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  face."  He 
was  plainly  averse  to  her  living  in  the  same  house  with 
Miss  Bathurst.  But  this  could  only  be  seen  from  his 
manner." 

Felicia  was  at  home,  they  must  act ;  the  matter  could 
not  be  deferred.  The  two  letters  were  written  and 
mailed  on  the  same  day  with  another — with  a  bearing 
on  the  case  meaning  so  much  more  than  they  had  hoped 
for, — that  had  they  known  of  it,  they  need  not  have 
written. 


240  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN  EXCURSION  TO  THE  MISSIONS  HAD  BEEN  AGREED  UPON. 

Mrs.  Robinson,  though  not  as  yet  a  successful  ap 
plicant  for  place  of  companion  to  his  daughter,  had  on 
this  occasion,  taken  possession  of  Paul  and  his  outfit — 
having  already,  as  she  believed,  entered  a  good  prepa 
ratory  wedge  for  gaining  a  superior  position  by  forc 
ing  on  the  L.  K.  Ranch  what  she  at  first  specified  as 
a  week's  visit,  but  which  was  now  being  lengthened 
indefinitely.  Felix,  nursing  a  sick  friend,  would  not 
be  present;  and  Paul  detained  by  business,  could  only 
promise  to  join  them  later.  Undaunted,  Mrs.  Robinson 
taking  the  necessary  tents,  wagons,  servants,  etc.,  was 
on  the  ground  and  prepared  to  take  the  part  of  leader. 
This,  notwithstanding  she  had  been  caught  in  a  fla 
grant  act  of  "mismanagement"  at  the  late  fair.  An  act 
so  mentioned  by  the  "committee"  solely  out  of  deference 
to  the  Sanford  family.  It  was  as  Mrs.  Andrews  had 
described.  She  was  an  adventuress — a  type  of  woman 
to  be  looked  for  in  a  frontier  country.  A  wolf  or  bird 
of  prey — bringing  other  wolves  or  like  birds.  For 
after  a  month  of  her  enforced  presence,  this  self-invited 
guest  introduced  as  her  cousins,  the  Misses  White  of 
New  Orleans,  giving  out  that  "they  were  crowded  at 
Sanford's."  They  would  take  Miss  Boling's  room. 
They  were  not  actually  young ;  they  had  been  comelier. 
Their  complexions  were  bad;  and  had  the  toughened 
look  of  those  who  had  been  much  at  sea,  or  who  had  sat 
around  camp-fires;  and  in  some  way,  as  Felicia  told 
Candace,  suggested  the  "Loafer-lady."  It  was  the  night 
before  they  returned  to  New  Orleans  that  Candace  had 
made  them  give  up  some  valuable  laces  and  a  couple 
of  rings  which  they  had  appropriated.  They  must  leave 
or  she  would  expose  them.  She  would  not  have  them 
"rooming  so  near  to  Miss  Bathurst.  Could  they  not 
go  back  to  Col.  Sanford's?"  They  went  home. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  241 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  father?"  asked  Felix,  who  did 
not  hear  of  it  until  after  they  had  gone.  "I  will  tell 
him,  myself." 

"No,  no,  Miss  Felicia,  that  is  the  worst  part  of  it  all. 
Believe  me,  I  have  done  all  that  is  required.  Mahse 
Paul  has  been  told  of  things  mislaid  by  Mrs.  Robinson, 
herself,  but  he  was  indignant  and  let  Polydore  know 
that  he  did  not  wish  to  hear  more  of  it.  I  think  he  likes 
and  respects  Mrs.  Robinson ;  and  for  that  reason,  Yorke 
locked  up  all  the  silver,  except  just  what  we  are  com 
pelled  to  use ;  and  Polydore  counts  that  everyday." 

"Not  speak  to  father  about  anything  so  bad  as  that, 
Candace?  It  is  is  my  duty.  I  will  do  it  at  once."  She 
did. 

"Do  you  not  think  they  may  be  mistaken,  Felicia?" 
(meaning  the  servants) . 

"I  know  they  are  not  mistaken.  I  will  find  a  way  to 
induce  Mrs.  Robinson  to  bring  her  visit  to  a  close." 

"Wait,  Felicia,  I  believe  she  will  soon  join  her  rel 
atives  in  New  Orleans;  in  fact  she  told  them  when 
parting,  that  they  might  expect  her  at  any  time  after 
the  Sanfords  had  left  for  Cisterdale.  I  will  be  glad." 

Although  Felicia  had  known  of  this  woman's  de 
signs  upon  her  father,  she  had  thought  of  them  as  ab 
surd  and  impossible  of  realization.  Her  antipathy 
arising  from  other  causes,  she  would  not  have  under 
stood  the  anxiety  of  her  older  and  more  world-wise 
friends. 

Felicia  was  the  present  owner  of  a  casket  of  superb 
jewels,  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors — both 
paternal  and  maternal.  There  was  also  a  collection 
of  other  legacies  in  gold  and  silver,  which,  gained  in 
the  same  way,  were  of  priceless  value. 

"Do  you  know,  father,  that  Yorke  and  Polydore  have 
locked  up  all  our  valuables?"  she  said,  her  voice  ring 
ing  out  in  merry  laughter. 

"Is  it  possible !"  exclaimed  Paul,  laughing,  but  blush 
ing  also.  "I  hardly  thought  we  were  in  such  great 
danger." 


242  ALONG  THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 

The  Sanfords  were  at  Cisterdale  and  the  tents  of  the 
excursionists  were  spread  at  the  Mission  San  Jose.  It 
was  past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  gulf 
breezes  had  begun  to  blow — when  Paul  came  up. 

"If  your  horses  are  not  tired,  Mr.  Bathurst,  we  have 
time  to  go  to  the  Mission  Conception,  and  afterwards 
to  San  Antonio  for  a  little  shopping  I've  got  to  do." 

"My  horses  are  not  tired,  but — what — ?" 

"Don't  say  any  more,  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go  along," 
putting  her  foot  on  the  iron  step,  she  vaulted  into  a 
seat  beside  him.  She  was  looking  quite  pretty,  though 
her  face  was  lit  up  with  a  kind  of  animation  which 
made  him  look  and  feel  uncomfortable ;  especially  as  a 
crowd  had  gathered  and  were  gazing  at  them  with  an 
expression  of  curiosity  and  astonishment. 

"You  can't  do  all  that,  Mrs.  Robinson,  and  get  back 
to-night,"  said  young  Neville.  Some  of  the  party  gave 
hurriedly,  a  list  of  things  to  be  purchased,  and  an 
elderly  bachelor  called  after  them,  "It's  goin'  to  rain, 
Bathurst,  it's  a  bad  time  for  an  elopement."  One  of 
the  camp  cooks  brought  a  list  of  groceries  for  the 
market — giving  it  to  Mrs.  Robinson,  she  having  already 
assumed  the  office  of  chief  purveyor  of  supplies.  A 
bill  to  liquidate  expenses  was  handed  her,  which  she 
put  in  her  purse,  and  they  were  off — followed  by  the 
wondering  gaze  of  the  waiting  crowd,  until  they  were 
out  of  sight. 

"Oughn't  we  to  cross  below?  I  am  not  sure  of  the 
road  on  this  side." 

"No,  there  is  another  crossing  above,"  she  answered. 

"But  the  Mission  Conception  is  east  of  the  river?" 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  we  will  find  the  other  ford  and 
it  is  the  best?" 

She  talked  along  the  way  with  some  brightness  and 
cleverness,  but  it  was  with  a  return  of  the  dislike  and 
distrust  he  had  felt  when  first  meeting  herj  that  he 
listened ;  a  feeling  which  sooner  or  later  came  to  every 
one  who  might  seek  or  be  constrained  to  accept  her 
society.  In  the  first  week  of  her  prolonged  visit  to 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  243 

his  house,  she  had  told  hitn  that  not  only  were  the  ex 
penses  of  his  household  double  what  they  ought  to  be, 
but  that  it  would  pay  to  reduce  said  household  by  at 
least  one-third  part  of  its  number.  In  plain  words,  he 
would  better  sell  some  of  the  older  and  less  useful  of  his 
servants ;  they  would  make  good  nurses — the  women — 
the  men  to  potter  about  a  farm,  or  wait  at  table;  but 
wereof  no  advantage  whatever,  on  a  stock-ranch.  "I 
wish  I  had  the  management  of  this  business  for  a  year 
or  two." 

For  a  full  minute  he  stared  at  her  with  a  look  of 
amazed  inquiry,  answering  with  stern  brevity,  that  he 
had  no  negroes  for  sale,  and  that  he  would  certainly 
try  to  do  what  might  be  best  for  the  welfare  of  all. 
There  was  much  merriment  in  the  servants  quarters  as 
Polydore  rehearsed  this  piece  of  news,  and  referred 
again  to  his  manumission  papers.  "How  lucky  he  was 
to  have  them!" 

Under  cover  of  the  thick  growth  along  the  river  and 
in  the  valley,  Paul  had  not  discovered  that  they  had 
lost  their  way  and  were  bearing  too  far  westward,  but 
now  the  more  open  country  compelled  notice.  The  sun 
was  low  and  it  would  soon  be  dark. 

"Are  we  not  going  in  the  wrong  direction?  I  hope 
we  are  not  lost." 

"That  would  be  too  bad,"  she  answered.  "It  would 
bring  the  Sanfords  home  from  Cisterdale  if  they  knew 
it.  They  are  opposed  to  an  intimacy  like  ours  anyhow. 
Not  only  the  Sanfords  but  the  whole  community  are 
talking  about  it." 

It  was  an  odd  remark — and  queer. 

"Why  should  they?    Is  it  in  any  way  peculiar?" 

"If  you  had  heard  their  objections  to  my  living  with 
you,  arid  their  scandalous  inferences,  you  would  not 
need  to  ask.  They  say  you  have  disgraced  your  family." 

He  began  to  study  her;  looking  at  her  steadily. 

"What  scandalous  inferences?" 

"I  can  not  tell  you,  Mr.  Bathurst,"  she  replied,  with 
affected  shyness,  "but  just  before  we  started — as  I 


244  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

left  the  camp — Mrs.  Elwell  asked  me  if  this — was  to 
be  an  elopement.  If  we  get* lost — and  I'm  afraid  we 
are  lost,  after  all  that's  been  said  and  done,  I  won't  go 
back  and  join  that  crowd  unless — well — unless  we  put 
it  out  of  their  power  to  do  any  harm." 

He  began  to  comprehend;  and  to  realize  what  was 
expected  of  him.  He  looked  at  her  critically — with  a 
full  understanding  of  it.  Doubtful  as  he  had  been  at 
times,  he  was  now  certain  of  it. 

"In  the  unexpected  suddenness  of  your  proposal  to 
go  to  San  Antonio  this  evening,  Mrs.  Robinson,  I  for 
got  to  tell  you  and  our  friends  at  the  camp,  that  I  have 
agreed  to  be  off  for  the  Nueces,  at  four  o'clock — sharp 
— to-morrow  morning.  We  have  traveled  so  far  out 
of  our  way  that  now  it  will  be  out  of  the  question  for 
us  to  reach  the  town  and  return  to-night — besides  it 
would  delay  me." 

"You  can  remain  in  San  Antonio  to-night,  and  defer 
your  visit  to  the  Nueces  indefinitely." 

"It  will  be  impossible  to  defer  it ;  and  I  may  as  well 
tell  you,  Mrs.  Robinson,  why  it  is  imperative; — or  it 
might  be  said  of  vital  importance.  I  have  to  be  at 
Castroville  to  meet  a  man  who  wishes  to  buy  a  part  of 
my  Nueces  property.  I  need  the  money  he  will  pay  for 
it.  I  am  deeply  in  debt.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  aid 
of  a  couple  of  friends,  whose  names  I  will  not  mention 
now,  I  would  have  been  ruined  two  years  ago.  The 
money  I  hope  to  get  from  this  sale  will  pay  the  interest 
on  money  borrowed,  but  it  will  not  be  a  drop  in  a 
bucket  of  water,  to  the  amount  I  owe." 

"I  did  not  know  your  affairs  were  in  such  a  bad 
way." 

"They  are  worse  than  I  have  told  you.  Everything 
favouring,  it  will  be  years  before  I  can  hope  to  be  free." 
She  leaned  languidly  on  the  back  of  her  seat.  Bathurst 
saw  that  his  shaft  had  hit  the  mark.  Suddenly  she 
straightened,  looking  towards  the  east. 

"See,  Mr.  Bathurst,  there  are  the  lights  of  San  An 
tonio,  we  will  not  have  to  cross  the  river.  How  tired 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  245 

I  am!"  She  hated  to  give  up  this  scheme.  But  per 
haps  even  yet — could  it  not  be  that  he  was  deceiving 
her? 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  tell  me  who  lent  you  that 
money,  Mr.  Bathurst?" 

"Mr.  Berenger  and  Col.  Sanford.  Mr.  Berenger  the 
greater  part  of  it.'" 

The  ready  answer  disarmed  all  suspicion.  It  was 
true. 

"Mr.  Berenger  gave  the  greater  part,  did  he.  It 
might  be  worth  while  to  look  into  his  motive  for  doing 
that,"  she  said,  again  sinking  back  into  her  seat.  Paul, 
knitting  his  brows,  could  not  imagine  what  she  meant. 

It  was  a  great  disappointment;  for,  as  was  so  flip 
pantly  hinted  by  Mrs.  Elwell,  this  opportunity  for  car 
rying  out  her  purpose,  was  not  the  result  of  accident, 
but  had  been  planned.  Her  chagrin  was  not  lessened 
by  the  fact  that  she  knew  she  had  mistaken  the  man; 
that  he  had  told  her  of  his  embarrassment,  because, 
reading  her  thoughts  he  wished  to  avoid  plainer  lan 
guage.  Well,  she  would  at  least  do  some  advantageous 
shopping.  Callahan  and  Grenet,  each  of  them  merchants 
with  large  establishments,  were  importers  of  foreign 
goods  and  had  beautiful  silks,  velvets  and  laces;  and 
there  were  costly  jewels  to  be  found  at  Bell's,  and  at 
certain  Jewish  and  Mexican  pawnshops.  She  was 
known  at  most  of  these  places,  going  the  rounds  with 
Felicia,  at  first,  and  later  on  her  account,  buying  what 
she  liked  and  paying  with  the  people's  money  or  pre 
tending  to  buy  for  Felicia  and  having  her  purchases 
charged  to  Paul's  account.  Further  thoughts  decided 
her  that  it  would  be  more  profitable  to  return  to  Little 
Kosta  and  the  Sanford  place,  for  she  now  knew  that 
now  she  would  go  back  to  New  Orleans.  Felicia  would 
be  away  until  after  a  certain  wedding,  in  which  she 
would  act  the  part  of  brides-maid,  would  be  over. 
Daisy  was  already  on  the  Nueces,  and  no  one  on  either 
place  but  the  servants.  At  the  L.  K.  Ranch  she  had  a 
nearly  empty  trunk,  and  the  family  had  rare  posses- 


246  AI.ONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

sions  of  small  bulk,  which,  with  the  aid  of  a  confederate 
she  could  sell,  if  not  in  New  Orleans,  in  some  place 
farther  away.  She  would  not  be  Cecelia  White  if  she 
could  not  pay  herself  out  of  that,  and  what  she  could 
pick  up  at  JSanford's,  for  her  very  nearly  profitless 
visit  to  Texas.  It  was  raining,  and  the  roads  heavy 
with  mud.  It  was  near  midnight  when  they  arrived 
at  the  Plaza  House.  One  of  the  servitors  belonging  to 
the  hotel  had  assisted  Mrs.  Robinson  to  alight  and  Paul 
was  about  to  drive  to  the  stable  with  his  team,  when 
Col.  Sanford  called  to  him  from  a  group  of  men  loung 
ing  about  the  entrance. 

"Hello,  Bathurst,  I  thought  you  had  come  and  gone 
again — gone  back  to  camp.  Howdy  do,  Mrs.  Robinson, 
I'm  going  with  Paul  just  now,  but  I  must  have  a  talk 
with  you  this  evening,"  he  said,  jumping  into  the  trap 
like  a  young  man. 

"Bathurst,  you're  not  married,  are  you?"  he  whis 
pered. 

"No.    I  have  escaped." 

"I'm  glad.  By  God— I'm  glad!  Well,  sirs!  It  beats 
a  dozen  novels — more  than  I've  ever  read!  Elinor 
comes  on  the  run  from  Cisterdale  with  a  package  of 
letters,  all  directed  to  me — one  of  them  marked  in 
haste,  was  from  a  man  in  New  Orleans  that  Berenger 
had  written  to,  I  do  not  know  why  nor  when,  but  it  was 
concerning  Mrs.  Robinson,  and  showed  that  she  was 
not  Mrs.  Robinson,  nor  ever  had  been,  which  of  course 
is  a  great  relief  to  me.  She  is  and  was  before  she  mar 
ried  George,  a  Mrs.  Henry,  the  wife  of  an  escaped  con 
vict,  who  lately  returned  and  was  rearrested  in  New 
Orleans.  I  was  just  about  to  go  to  Cisterdale,  myself, 
when  Elinor  got  home;  then  I  must  go  to  your  camp 
as  fast  as  my  team  could  travel.  By  good  management 
I  arrived  this  afternoon  only  to  learn  that  you  had 
eloped  with  a  female  bigamist."  Col.  Sanford  laughed 
uproariously.  Paul  also  laughed,  but  less  mirthfully. 

When  they  had  left  the  stables  Col.  Sanford  said 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  247 

"I'm  glad  it  wasn't  true,  Bathurst;  when  they  told 
at  first  I  was  afraid  it  was.  I  blame  myself  for  it  all. 
I  ought  to  have  made  her  leave  the  country." 

"You  with  my  other  friends  have  done  me  a  great 
service,  Col.  Sanford.  I  will  never  forget  it.  I  have 
sometimes  felt  great  pity  for  Mrs.  Robinson." 

"Yes,  I  know  how  that  is.  She  is  something  of  an 
actress.  I  will  tell  her  presently,  that  Henry  is  liv 
ing,  though  I  believe  she  has  known  it  along.  I'll  take 
her  straight  home  in  the  morning  so  that  she  can  pack 
up  and  go." 

Col.  Sanford  was  called  at  for  him,  the  late  hour  of 
half -past  eight  o'clock,  and  was  told  that  Paul  had  left 
at  four,  and  that  the  lady  had  left  a  note  and  had  gone 
on  the  early  morning  coach.  The  note  told  him  that 
she  would  join  Mrs.  Andrews  and  Miss  Sanford  at  Cis- 
terdale,  which  was  far  from  being  the  case;  the  truth 
being  that  she  was  traveling  rapidly  towards  Little 
Kosta  behind  four  thoroughbred  Kentucky  trotters; 
and  that  she  meant  to  get  off  at  the  stagestand  nearest 
that  point.  Col.  Sanford,  she  believed  would  go  di 
rectly  to  Cisterdale,  as  he  had  his  own  team.  This 
would  give  her  time.  There  would  be  no  white  person 
to  interfere  with  her;  she  would  have,  she  thought,  a 
clear  field.  Taking  a  hack  at  the  stagestand,  she  first 
went  to  Sanford's,  making  a  clean  sweep  of  all  portable 
articles  of  value — knowing  where  they  were  kept  and 
having  free  access  to  all.  But  at  the  L.  K.  Ranch  it  was 
different.  Driving  up  to  the  front  gate  she  walked 
rapidly  through  the  entry  into  the  patio,  where  she 
heard  voices.  She  found  only  Polydore  and  Candace. 
They  looked  at  her  in  surprise ;  but  rising  and  politely 
standing  in  her  presence. 

"Is  there  nobody  here  but  you  two." 

"Not  at  the  house,  madam,"  answered  Polydore.  "The 
others  are  in  the  fields ;  all  except  the  children." 

"I  want  the  keys,  Candace.  Get  them  quick.  I  want 
my  trunk,  and  the  man  is  waiting  to  take  me  to  the 
stagestand.  Hurry  up,  why  don't  you?" 


248  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  could  not  understand  at  first,  Mrs.  Robinson,  but 
your  trunk  is  not  where  you  left  it.  Betty  and  I  packed 
all  the  things  you  left  here  in  it,  and  we  put  it  in  here," 
she  said,  opening  a  small  bed-room,  which  seldom  used, 
was  always  locked. 

"Who  told  you  to  do  this?  Come,  give  me  the  keys 
to  the  upper  rooms — my  rooms,  I  want  to  see  if  you've 
left  out  anything." 

"Nothing  is  left  out,  Mrs.  Robinson.  And  Miss 
Felicia  gave  order  that  this  must  be  done.  It  was  only 
this  morning,  we  received  it.  Miss  Felicia  wrote 
that  Mrs.  Andrews  told  her  by  letter  that  you 
would  want  your  trunk,  as  you  were  going  to  leave. 
She  also  wrote  that  certain  things  which  she  mentioned 
should  be  put  in  Yorke's  care;  he  has  the  key  of  the 
room  in  which  they  are  placed,  but  as  I  told  you  at  first, 
he  is  in  the  field." 

The  woman  walked  nervously  to  and  fro  for  a  minute 
or  two,  then  going  through  the  entry  to  the  hired  car 
riage  she  sent  the  driver,  who,  with  Polydore's  assis 
tance  put  the  trunk  in  its  place  at  the  back  of  the  ve 
hicle,  jumped  into  his  seat,  and  drove  away.  Mrs. 
Robinson  was  never  again  seen  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Guadalupe  river  after  that.  But  it  was  many  months 
before  it  was  known  throughout  the  country  at  large, 
that  Felicia  and  Daisy  never  had  a  step-mother. 

Paul  Bathurst,  though  grateful,  was  deeply  humili 
ated.  His  friends  had  out  of  regard  for  his  feelings, 
concealed  a  sort  of  contemptuous  pity  which  he,  if  not 
they,  felt  to  be  deserved.  But  try  as  he  would,  there 
was  a  little  resentment  mixed  with  his  gratitude.  Ask 
ing  himself  if  by  any  means  he  could  ever  have  been 
inveigled  into  a  marriage  with  such  a  woman  as  Mrs. 
Robinson,  the  answer  was  at  first  negative ;  and  he  felt 
irritated  by  the  strong  efforts  of  his  friends  to  prevent 
such  a  union.  But  had  they  been  too  officious?  They 
were  men  and  women  of  discernment.  Might  not  the 
end,  if  the  woman  had  been  sharp  enough  to  conceal 
a  few  faults,  been  different?  A  few  omissions — and 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  249 

what?  What  if  the  servants  had  not  remarked  it?  Had 
he  not  even  at  least  one  foot  in  the  trap?  It  was  Fe 
licia's  scorn  and  honest  directness  that  had  saved  him. 
Oh,  he  would  not  think  about  it.  He  needed  a  keeper. 
He  would  cultivate  humility — permit  his  friends  to 
laugh  at  him — and  love  them.  When  he  was  again  at 
home,  he  told  his  children  of  his  continued  ill  luck,  of 
unexpected  losses  and  increased  liabilities.  Both  as 
always,  attentive ;  Felicia  with  book  and  pencil — asking 
questions,  and  taking  notes,  was  in  a  short  time  mis 
tress  of  all  the  new  details  of  her  father's  business 
difficulties. 

When  they  had  finished,  she  remained  for  a  long 
time  gravely  and  thoughtfully  going  over  the  facts  and 
figures  she  had  taken  down ;  then  closing  her  note-book 
and  placing  it  on  the  table — said : — 

"'Father,  I  have  known  most  of  this  for  a  great  while ; 
but  now  that  I  understand  it  all,  I  see  nothing  to  fear. 
We  can  pay  the  interest  on  this  borrowed  money, 
easily,  and  our  other  creditors  are  not  pressing.  I  am 
going  to  help  you.  Do  not  sell  our  fine  farming  lands 
now  for  they  are  rising  in  value  every  day.  And  this 
ranch — must  we  sell  it?" 

"It  is  true  we  need  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry,  and 
at  present  it  might  be  best  to  rent  this  ranch,  and  move 
to  the  Talbert  place,  which  is  vacant,  and  which  I  can 
have  for  half  as  much  as  Meath  will  pay  me  for  this. 
Mr.  Meath  wishes  to  buy  this  property.  I  may  be  com 
pelled  to  accept  his  offer  I  am  afraid.  The  Talbert 
house  is  much  smaller  than  this  but  is  very  neatly  built 
and  is  a  one-story  house  of  stone.  Of  course  I  am  not 
counting  the  basement,  which  is  not  finished ;  the  din 
ing  room  only  having  been  plastered.  iFelicia  there  is 
a  bare  possibility  that  by  selling  Little  Kosta  and  my 
Nueces  ranch  and  some  lucky  trading  I  may  be  able  to 
make  good  my  word  and  go  back  to  South  Carolina 
in  1860." 

"Will  you  be  pleased  to  go  so  soon?  I  have  hardly 
begun  to  hope  for  it." 


250  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Yes,  father,  but  it  is  home  wherever  you,  Basil, 
and  Kaspar  are ;  still  more  will  it  be  home  with  Grand 
ma,  Uncle  Darius,  and  Aunt  Sarah." 

"Then  we  will  work  to  that  end.  Felicia,  I  never 
thought  to  be  again  so  happy." 

"Father  would  you  object  to  my  teaching  a  school. 
In  the  Talbert  neighborhood  and  for  some  distance 
above,  there  is  now  no  school.  Do  you  remember  the 
league  of  land  that  was  vacant  when  we  first  came  to 
the  country  ?  The  only  one,  that  had  no  one  living  upon 
it.  Just  across  the  river.  Mr.  Thomas  built  a  house 
upon  it  and  taught  school,  but  never  purchased  the 
land.  When  Mr.  Elwell  bought  it,  he  lived  in  the 
school  house  until  his  dwelling  was  built ;  but  of  course 
that  broke  up  the  school;  so  the  people  have  to  send 
their  children  to  Bethlehem,  a  distance  of  three  or  four 
miles  or  to  the  German  settlement,  which  is  farther 
still  for  most  of  them.  Hulda  Richter,  who  is  eighteen, 
and  very  advanced  in  her  English  and  German,  wants 
still  further  to  improve  them ;  and  I  want  to  learn  Ger 
man.  She  says  she  can  get  a  night  class  of  young  Ger 
mans,  youths  and  maidens,  which  will  make  it  prof 
itable  to  me,"  said  Felix,  laughing.  "In  addition  to 
that,  I  can  get  as  many  piano  pupils  as  I  can  find  time 
to  teach.  There  would  be  about  thirty  day  scholars." 
Paul,  who  had  been  listening  with  every  manifestation 
of  uneasiness,  began  nervously : — 

"Don't  attempt  it,  Felicia ;  think  of  what  your  Uncle 
Darius  would  say." 

"Uncle  Darius  might  not  like  it  at  first,  but  I  am 
sure  that  were  he  in  my  place,  he  would  do  just  as  I 
want  to  do ;  and  would  be  sure  when  he  knows  how  we 
are  involved,  to  come  to  my  way  of  seeing  the  neces 
sity  of  it.  Father,  I  am  going  to  work." 

"Felicia,  are  you  sure  that  you  feel  impelled  to  this 
by  a  love  of  the  work,  or  are  you  actuated  by  a  desire 
to  help  me.  For,  if  that  is  the  case,  I  feel  that  as  yet 
I  have  no  need  to  accept  the  sacrifice." 

"It  would  be  no  sacrifice.     I  admit  that  the  world 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  251 

holds  no  pleasure  so  sweet  as  the  thought  of  being  of 
use  to  my  father.  Father,  your  troubles  have  made  you 
old  before  your  time.  Your  financial  troubles  are 
greater  than  you  will  admit  to  yourself.  When  Uncle 
Darius  took  it  upon  himself  to  pay  Basil's  debts,  you 
felt  humiliated.  You  know  to-day  that  both  he  and 
grandma  would  relieve  your  difficulties  and  would  be 
glad  of  the  opportunity  of  doing  it.  Would  you  ask 
them?" 

"I  could  not.  I  feel  like  I  have  no  right  to  tax  any 
further  their  loving  and  generous  hearts.  I  do  not 
wish  them  to  know  of  the  pain  I  have  suffered  or  of 
the  weakness  I  have  shown  in  misfortune.  But  I  do  not 
want  the  darling  of  my  heart,  to  spend  the  best  years  of 
her  life  in  working  like  a  galley  slave.  It  is  not,  Felix, 
that  I  have  any  of  the  false  pride  of  social  position,  all 
labour  is  honourable,  but  the  confinement,  the  tread 
mill  work  of  teaching  a  country  school — the — " 

"Stop  father,  if  you  consent,  we'll  make  the  experi 
ment." 

"Consent?  I  will  allow  you  full  liberty  to  choose 
how  you  will  employ  your  time; — but  do  not  promise 
your  employers  as  to  the  length  of  the  period  you  will 
work;  for  with  a  few  lucky  strokes  I  may  pull  out  of 
my  difficulties  and  this  country  in  a  very  short  time. 
While  your  mother  lived,  it  was  Heaven — and  although 
I  am  too  happy  in  my  children  to  become  misanthropic, 
I  know  that  never,  either  here  or  anywhere  else,  will  I 
be  content  except  in  the  home  of  my  childhood." 

"Another  powerful  argument,  in  favor  of  the  enter 
prise  is  that  we  will  not  have  to  send  Kaspar  away.  I 
can  teach  him  for  several  years  yet.  And  again.  At 
the  Talbert  place,  at  a  point  between  the  gin-house  and 
the  stone  dwelling,  is  a  two-roomed  log  structure — the 
rooms  separated  by  a  plank  partition;  this  can  be 
taken  out  and  used  in  repairs  and  Polydore  whom  I  sent 
to  make  an  examination  of  the  premises,  says  there  is 
a  fine  stone  fire-place.  We  can  get  the  old  benches 


252  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

from  the  Thomas  school  house.    The  Elwells  having  the 
desks — our  school  house  is  ready  at  once." 

"It  can  be  made  very  comfortable,  I  know, — but  it's  a 
little  way  off  yet,  darling.  We'll  see.  The  best  thing 
you  have  told  me  is  of  your  desire  to  learn  German,  and 
your  plan  of  the  night-school  is  good.  Indeed  I  am 
overwhelmed  with  surprise  when  I  think  of  your  plans 
and  all  you  have  done  to  help  me." 

"It  would  be  decidedly  unfair,  were  I  to  claim  all 
the  credit,  for  I  have  been  astonished  at  our  success; 
to  our  dear  black  folks  is  due  the  greater  praise.  I 
have  only  listened  and  learned."  Felix  did  not  yet  tell 
him  of  another  project  in  which  Candace  was  largely 
interested  and  that  with  pocket  money  given  her  by 
Uncle  Sam,  and  which  he  had  told  her  not  to  spend  in 
useless  frippery,  she  had  bought — through  the  agency 
of  Polydore,  fifty  beautifully  dressed  fawn  skins. 
These,  Candace  was  swiftfully  and  skillfully  making 
into  gloves,  which  had  all  the  fineness  of  finish  of  those 
made  of  chamois  skin.  On  every  skin  there  would  be  a 
profit  of  fifteen  dollars.  Mrs.  Rubenstein,  the  widow 
of  a  Hungarian  officer,  disposed  of  them  to  the  citizens 
of  San  Antonio  and  to  the  ladies  at  the  post,  and  hith 
erto  as  now,  had  been  unable  to  supply  the  demand. 
Felicia  helped  with  the  embroidery,  with  which  they 
were  daintly  embellished.  Some  day  she  would  let 
Uncle  Sam  know  the  success  of  this  investment.  It 
will  help  pay  off  the  mortgage  on  the  Nueces  property, 
Candace  said,  hopefully.  But  all  matters  relating  to 
Little  Kosta,  had  been  soon  after  settled  by  the  sale  of 
it,  and  the  family  moved  to  the  Talbert  place.  Felicia 
there-upon,  opened  the  doors  of  the  little  school  house — 
which  from  the  first  day  was  crowded  with  pupils. 

The  negroes,  with  Yorke  at  their  head,  had  conceived 
and  were  successfully  carrying  out  a  speculation  in 
green  hides — buying  them  and  preparing  them  for  ex 
portation.  This  was  another  paying  wheel  in  the  do 
mestic  machinery.  Candace,  who  was  present,  re 
minded  her  master  of  this  fact — and  that  the  pecan 
crop  would  be  exceptionally  large. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  253 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

A  natural  avenue,  irregularly  bordered  by  liveoak 
trees,  led  up  to  the  hamlet  of  St.  Andrews.  About  the 
little  church  were  some  new  cottages,  at  from  a  quarter 
to  a  half  mile  apart,  half  hidden  from  each  other  by 
trees  of  oak,  cedar  and  hackberry.  It  was  the  begin 
ning  of  a  village.  Back  of  the  church  was  a  frame 
school  house,  and  still  further  in  the  rear  and  across 
a  space  wide  enough  for  a  street,  was  a  new  dwelling 
with  a  five-acre  orchard  and  garden  lot  belonging  to 
Mrs.  Liddell  who  with  her  large  family  once  lived  for 
a  while  in  the  lower  settlement,  but  who  for  more  than 
a  year  had  been  living  in  Houston.  She  was  a  cousin 
of  the  Duf fields.  She  would  teach  a  select  school,  which 
would  also  be  sectarian.  At  present  every  member  of 
her  family,  from  Arthur,  twenty,  to  little  Amy,  six 
years  old,  was  actively  employed  in  finishing  some  task 
assigned  by  their  busy  mother;  who  for  her  part  was 
making  up  a  quantity  of  snowy  muslin  into  window 
curtains,  and  listening  to  the  gossip,  lively  or  serious, 
of  her  young  friend,  Cicely  Wafer. 

"You  know  that  I  have  been  a  long  time  away,  Cicely, 
and  you  know  also  that  I  am  not  asking  all  these  ques 
tions  from  idle  curiosity.  Having  been  the  wife  of  a 
clergyman,  I  am  aware  of  the  duties  of  a  teacher  in  a 
school  like  this,  believing  them  to  be  equal  in  import 
ance  to  those  of  a  clergyman ;  and  taking  in  the  whole 
county  as  a  field  of  labour,  to  be  of  any  use,  we  are 
compelled  to  know  the  people."  They  had  been  talking 
of  the  Berengers. 

"I  was  here  as  you  may  remember,  when  they  came 
home.  Very  soon  after  I  heard  something  about  a 
letter,  and — and  Mrs.  Kenyon." 

"There  was  something  about  Mrs.  Kenyon  and  a  let 
ter  ;  taken  separately  however.  A  few  days  after  they 


254  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

came  home,  Mrs.  Berenger  found  a  letter  written  by 
Archie  to  Randal  Houghton  and  dated  a  week  before 
their  wedding.  It  was  in  the  office  desk ;  Randal  used 
the  desk  while  Archie  was  absent.  This  was  the  letter 
which  caused  the  first  quarrel.  The  Kenyon  trouble 
came  later.  Mrs.  Kenyon  waylaid  him  at  one  stage- 
stand  and  went  alone  with  him  to  another — a  drive  of 
ten  miles.  Billy  Monroe  met  them,  and  half  an  hour 
after  saw  Mrs.  Berenger  at  her  own  gate  and  told  as 
a  pleasantry,  that  he  had  seen  her  husband — that  he 
was  in  the  best  of  company,  and  traveling  rapidly 
towards  the  west." 

"Whose  company?"  she  asked. 

"The  prettiest  little  widow  hereabout.  Do  you  know 
who  Mrs.  Kenyon  is?" 

"Not  as  yet.  But  I  will  find  out."  And  waiting  until 
Monroe  was  out  of  sight,  she  ordered  her  horse  sad 
dled  and  went  after  them.  She  met  Berenger  coming 
back  alone,  and  no  one  knows  exactly  what  took  place. 
He  told  some  of  his  friends  in  a  "by  the  way"  sort  of 
manner  that  Mrs.  Kenyon  asked  him  to  take  her  be 
cause  when  waiting  at  Reuter's  she  had  learned  that 
the  coach  would  be  three  or  four  hours  late.  It  is  pos 
sible  he  did  this  to  cover  up  a  probable  indiscretion  of 
Mrs.  Berenger's,  who  it  seems  has  not  learned  the  wis 
dom  of  keeping  her  private  affairs  from  the  public. 
The  letter  is  in  every  way  a  different  matter,  and  con 
cerns  another  and  different  sort  of  person;  and  the 
trouble  grows  out  of  this  dissimilarity;  which  indeed 
makes  it  far  more  serious,  and  to  my  mind  a  thing  that 
Mrs.  Berenger  ought  to  let  alone." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  Cicely,  that  the  late  dis 
graceful  quarrel  between  these  people  in  any  way  in 
volves — "  She  whispered  a  name. 

"No,  no,  Mrs.  Liddell,  the  very  last  is  like  the  first 
in  all  things  but  the  name.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Mrs. 
Gaultier?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  255 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Gaultier.  I've  seen  her.  But  she — the 
other — who  ought  not  to  be  named  in  the  same  breath 
with  them — has  she  come  back?  She  is  at  home — is 
she  not?" 

"Yes,  for  the  past  several  weeks.  They  have  moved 
to  the  Talbert  place,  and  she  is  superintending  some 
inside  improvements.  I  was  there  a  day  or  two  ago; 
she  was  very  busy,  but  would  not  let  me  leave ;  telling 
me  to  stay  and  follow  her  about  while  she  worked." 

"Dear,  dear  Felix !"  said  Mrs.  Liddell.  "But  the  let 
ter,  Cicely.  You  and  I  know,  as  every  one,  with  the 
smallest  degree  of  perception  or  instinctive  knowledge 
was  bound  to  know,  how  it  was  with  her  and  the  man 
whose  affairs  we  have  under  discussion.  Was  she  the 
one  referred  to  in  this  letter?" 

"To  any  one  who  knows,  there  can  be  no  doubt  about 
that,  but  there  was  no  name  mentioned.  The  letter 
was  written  just  one  week  before  his  marriage  to  Miss 
Proctor.  It  was  in  part  a  business  letter,  but  ended 
with  a  brief  protest  against  his  coming  marriage  with 
Miss  Proctor;  and  declaring  that  he  had  done  his  best 
to  remove  the  conditions  which  appeared  to  make  it 
necessary.  But  after  exhausting  every  argument  in 
debating  the  case  with  his  father,  the  only  concession 
accorded  was,  that  he  might  leave  its  decision  to  the 
lady ;  and  although  he  had  taken  advantage  of  the  priv 
ilege  and  told  the  truth — that  he  loved  another,  it  was 
of  no  use.  Miss  Proctor  treating  the  assertion  a  joke 
— a  test  of  her  own  sincerity." 

"How  fortunate  he  did  not  give  the  name." 

"Yes.  It  is  certain  that  Larry  knows.  Laura  says 
he  will  neither  deny  or  affirm;  and  Randal  declares 
that  he  could  not  swear  to  his  own  certainty  of  it.  He 
has  his  opinion,  but  he  would  not  give  that.  Nor  would 
Larry." 

"There  is  wisdom  in  that.  If  she  knew,  she  might 
get  on  her  horse  and  attack  the  Talbert  Place.  Poor 
woman !  Of  all  the  passions,  jealousy  is  the  most  dan 
gerous — the  most  difficult  of  control." 


256  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"I  really  believe  she  might  do  something  like  that, 
for  she  took  the  letter  without  saying  a  first  word  to 
Archie,  and  went  straight  to  Randal  with  it.  She  gave 
it  to  him — telling  him  'to  read  it — the  letter  was  his.' 
She  had  said  nothing  to  Archie  about  it,  and  would 
not ;  at  least  would  not  until  she  had  herself  under  bet 
ter  control.  So  it  was  quite  safe  for  him  to  tell  her 
the  name  of  this  woman.  He  would  do  that — would  be 
not?" 

Randal  saw  from  the  first  how  full  of  risk  that 
would  be ;  so  he  merely  said  when  he  had  finished  read 
ing  it : — 

"I  know  this  letter,  Mrs.  Berenger,  and  there's  noth 
ing  in  it  so  very  serious.  In  regard  to  the  name — I 
could  not  say  or  swear  that  I  know  it.  He  then  told 
her  that  even  if  he  suspected,  he  would  not  feel  at 
liberty  to  tell  even  that ;  and  tried  to  persuade  her  that 
it  was  common  for  young  men  to  write  such  letters 
and  forget  them  as  soon  as  written.  That  the  very  fact 
of  Berenger  marrying  as  he  did  showed  his  preference ; 
and  the  matter  was  not  worth  a  second  thought;  and 
was  surely  not  a  thing  to  grieve  over. 

"If  you  think  so  lightly  of  it,  Mr.  Houghton,  why 
not  tell  me  who  it  was  ?" 

Randal  flatly  refused. 

"Oh,  well — it  was  Mrs.  Kenyon,"  Randal  laughed. 

"I  will  not  reply  to  any  conjectures,  Mrs.  Berenger. 
I'm  sorry  you  read  that  letter." 

"Does  Felix  know  her? — I  mean  Mrs.  Berenger." 

"I  do  not  think  she  has  ever  seen  her.  She  went 
away  soon  after  this  marriage,  and  as  you  know  they 
have  been  moving  and  the  whole  family  have  been 
away — Mr.  Bathurst  and  Daisy  on  the  Nueces  and 
Felix  at  Peyton's.  Only  a  few  knew  positively,  any 
thing  about  her  former  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ber 
enger,  and  like  you  and  I,  these  are  her  friends." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  257 

"I'm  glad  of  that;  I  would  hate  to  have  her  name 
linked  with  that  of  any  wild  young  man;  and  though 
his  virtues  may  overtop  his  faults,  Archie  Berenger 
must  still  be  called  that." 


It  was  a  month  after  the  installation  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Duffield,  when  Felix  first  found  opportunity  to  attend 
the  new  church.  The  organ  was  in  place,  the  organist 
appointed,  and  she  had  been  mentioned  as  one  well- 
fitted  for  the  choir  service  and  had  been  asked  to  take 
a  place  in  it;  but  had  declined  on  account  of  home 
duties  and  certain  disinclination  for  the  work.  But 
this  day  she  would  take  the  place  of  Mrs.  Liddell,  who 
was  ill. 

The  church  as  a  result  of  the  popularity  of  its  pas 
tor  had  been  crowded  from  the  beginning.  The  family 
had  come  to  be  regarded  as  permanent  residents,  and 
lived  in  a  commodious  and  picturesque  cottage,  roughly 
and  substantially  built  in  rustic  style,  with  many  rooms 
lengthening  out  under  one  roof  like  a  bungalo;  but 
called  by  courtesy  "The  Parsonage."  A  little  slip  of 
land;  on  one  side  a  rocky  slope,  and  on  the  other  and 
in  front  grew  meadow  grass  and  prairie  flowers.  A 
forest  of  trees  cast  shade  on  roof  and  ground. 

Mrs.  Liddell  lived  near  the  parsonage,  and  in  sight 
of  the  church.  Felix  had  gone  early,  having  driven  by 
way  of  this  house  to  get  certain  pieces  of  music  in  time 
for  rehearsal  before  the  morning  service  began.  While 
at  the  gate  several  pots  of  flowers  had  been  put  in  the 
carriage  for  the  chancel.  Picking  up  the  lightest  of 
them,  and  leaving  Polydore  to  bring  the  others,  she 
ran  lightly  up  the  steps,  and  entered  the  vestibule. 
Berenger  was  sitting  on  one  of  the  benches.  This  was 
the  first  time  they  had  met  since  her  return  from 
Charleston.  A  flash  of  memory  brought  instantane 
ously  to  mind  the  constraint  in  his  manner  at  their 
parting,  which  Miss  Boling  also  had  observed  and  com 
mented  upon.  It  should  be  different — she  would  not 
have  it  so.  He  had  said  once,  that  they  ought  to  be 


258  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

friends.  Thus  thinking,  she  walked  directly  toward 
him,  holding  out  her  disengaged  hand,  and  wholly  with 
out  diffidence,  bade  him  good  morning.  Putting  her 
flowers  on  the  bench,  she  sat  down.  He  had  risen  as 
she  approached  him, — and  now,  looking  a  little  flushed, 
and  hesitating,  he  again  took  his  seat. 

"This  begins  to  look  like  home,"  she  said,  alluding 
to  the  church.  "Is  this  your  first  sight  of  it?" 

"Except  from  a  distance,  yes." 

"I  am  to  sing  in  Mrs.  Liddell's  place  today,  and  came 
an  hour  ahead  of  time  to  practice.  I  have  brought  the 
music  required  for  the  day's  service." 

"My  wife  came  for  the  same  reason,  and  to  fill  a 
vacancy,  and  is  above — the  only  one  here  at  present." 
As  they  were  speaking,  after  a  few  chords  played  with 
great  skill,  some  one  in  the  gallery  above  began  a  vocal 
exercise.  "Mrs.  Berenger  has  no  music,  perhaps  you 
can  help  her." 

"You  will  go  up  and  introduce  me,"  said  Felix, 
rising.  Berenger  going  swiftly  up  the  steps,  and  Felix 
following  more  slowly  had  stopped  at  a  point  near  the 
gable  window,  which  threw  its  light  upon  the  figure  at 
the  organ.  She  saw  a  woman  of  heavy  build,  but 
shapely,  with  a  rather  large  head  and  short  ungraceful 
neck;  but  the  abundant  blonde  hair  was  beautifully 
arranged,  and  Mrs.  Berenger  was  appropriately  and 
exquisitely  dressed.  Absorbed  in  her  playing  and  with 
her  back  towards  them  she  continued  to  sing.  At  the 
first  stop  Berenger  called  her  attention. 

"Clara,  here  is  Miss  Bathurst,  who  will  help  you  out 
of  your  difficulty."  She  looked  at  him, — turned  sud 
denly  in  her  seat  and  seeing  Felix,  who,  standing  in 
the  soft  coloured  light  of  the  little  window,  made  a  pic 
ture  of  dazzling  beauty,  she  arose  and  faced  them. 
After  the  introduction  she  again  took  her  seat,  with 
her  back  to  the  organ,  with  her  eyes  fastened  on  the 
girl  like  one  startled.  Shiftingly,  with  swift  side- 
glances,  she  took  in  both  man  and  girl  seemingly  in 
one  look. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  259 

"Miss  Bathurst  will  take  Mrs.  Liddell's  part,  Clara." 

"And  I — my  own,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  and  a 
sharp  inquiring  look  full  of  sinister  meaning;  which, 
though  quick  as  it  was  furtive,  Felicia  saw, — and  so 
did  he.  Felix,  slightly  abashed,  had  been  taking  off 
her  hat  and  gloves  and  was  now  unrolling  and  straight 
ening  her  music.  Berenger  had  left,  if  not  in  haste 
at  least  without  ceremony.  Mrs.  Berenger  was  watch 
ing  her  every  movement;  looking  at  her  steadfastly 
and  critically — and  boldly.  Being  observed,  it  aroused 
a  feeling  of  antagonism  and  was  bravely  returned. 

"Mrs.  Berenger,  neither  you  nor  I  know  our  parts — 
had  we  not  better  go  over  them.  Let  us  begin." 

"You  have  not  been  here  before?"  she  asked  ab 
ruptly. 

"No,  although  I  have  been  at  home  a  long  time,  I 
have  not  been  able  to  come  here.  I  am  a  member  of 
this  church." 

As  Mrs.  Berenger,  looking  absently,  and  intently  in 
her  face,  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  purpose  in  view 
— Felix  again  spoke. 

"Hadn't  we  better  begin,  Mrs.  Berenger?  I  am 
afraid  I  will  fail  outright,  unless  we  go  over  this." 
Taking  the  music  given  her  by  Mrs.  Liddell  and  placing 
it  on  the  rack,  together  they  sang — repeating — until 
Mrs.  Berenger  said : — 

"There,  that  will  do — we  need  have  no  fear  of  fail 
ing."  Again  turning  around  on  her  seat,  she  asked : — 

"Will  you  continue  in  the  choir?" 

"No,  I  will  only  sing  in  an  emergency  like  this." 

"Your  voice  is  a  remarkable  one,  and  you  have  taken 
pains  in  cultivating  it." 

"I  have  had  good  teachers." 

"Come  let  us  try  this."  Taking  up  some  sheets  of 
music,  again  they  sang — "We  both  did  better  in  this." 

"Yes,"  said  Felix,  "I  was  more  familiar  with  my 
part." 


260  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Your  voice  is  a  good  complement  to  mine.  I  wish 
you  would  take  Mrs.  Liddell's  place  in  the  choir.  Would 
you  not  like  it?" 

"No — "  said  Felix — looking  down.  "I  do  not  think 
I  would." 

She  had  begun  to  be  aware  of  a  strange  feeling  of  re 
pulsion  and  distrust  which  seemed  to  increase  with 
every  moment  of  this  interview  with  Mrs.  Berenger. 
She  could  not  have  told  how  it  was  that  she  was  so  re 
pelled  ; — there  was  almost  an  antipathy.  The  coming  of 
the  other  members  of  the  choir,  brought  a  partial  relief, 
but  she  would  be  glad  to  be  out  of  her  presence — out 
of  the  church ;  and  when  on  her  way  home,  she  had  re 
covered  from  its  effects,  she  could  not  yet  analyze  it. 
It  was  like  she  had  met  one  whom  she  felt  was  an 
enemy.  A  host  of  emotion,  she  had  never  known  before 
had  overwhelmed  her  in  the  church : — they  were  such 
as  in  future  she  would  keep  out  of  her  mind ;  for  there 
was  no  word  or  act  that  could  be  thought  of  in  justifi 
cation.  She  laughed  a  little.  What  was  it  Uncle  Darius 
used  to  tell  them  to  do  when  they  were  children — to 
keep  wicked  thoughts  out?  They  must  repeat  the  mul 
tiplication  table, — back  and  forth.  "I  will  do  that," 
she  said. 


"Archibald,  how  long  have  you  known  Miss  Bath- 
urst?"  asked  Mrs.  Berenger,  on  their  way  home  from 
church  a  couple  of  hours  afterwards. 

"Since  February  18th,  1853." 

"This  is  1858— about  five  years." 

"Yes." 

"You  never  mentioned  the  fact  to  me." 

"It  never  occurred  to  me." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"She  is  near  nineteen." 

"Do  you  think  she  is  pretty?" 

"I  have  thought  very  little  of  her  beauty." 

"Are  you  not  friends?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  261 

"Hardly  that — we  have  met  only  at  long  intervals, 
she  is  distinctively  better  looking  now  than  when  I  first 
saw  her." 

"She  has  a  good  voice  and  sings  well — her  voice  is  a 
good  complement  to  mine;  but  when  I  told  her  so,  she 
took  no  notice  of  it.  I  thought  I  would  propose  practic 
ing  some  songs  with  her,  but  she  has  repellant  manners 
and  I  did  not  make  the  offer.  I  do  not  like  her." 

Berenger  smiled.  Mrs.  Berenger  saw  the  smile,  and 
not  liking  it,  was  silent  for  the  remainder  of  the  drive 
homeward.  In  the  afternoon  the  nurse  brought  in  the 
boy  with  some  trifling  ailment  which  claimed  the 
mother's  attention.  Her  husband  had  again  left  home 
and  the  little  one  had  gone  to  sleep.  For  a  while  she 
continued  to  sit  in  an  easy  chair  by  his  crib,  then  in 
a  short  time  began  to  pace  the  room,  speaking  aloud 
as  she  walked,  the  thoughts  which  had  been  taken  form 
in  her  mind  since  morning.  What  did  it  mean?  The  pre 
cision  of  that  reply,  and  the  flush  that  came  over  his 
face  when  she  questioned  him.  "It  did  not  strike  me 
at  first,  but  he  looked  just  as  he  did  when  I  showed 
him  the  letter.  He  knew  the  precise  date  of  their 
meeting."  She  sat  down.  "That  is  my  rival;  what  a 
stupid  fool  I  am.  No,  I  will  not  encourage  any  intimacy 
with  the  young  woman.  Cool,  proud,  reserved  and 
distant — repellant  even,  her  manner  was  the  same  to 
no  other  member  of  the  choir."  She  drew  her  chair 
nearer  the  cradle,  thinking  unhappily,  it  would  better 
a  thousand  times  be  a  Mrs.  Kenyon  or  a  Mrs.  Gaultier. 
This  was  altogether  hopeless.  Laying  her  face  upon 
the  pillow  of  the  sleeping  child,  she  closed  her  eyes. 

When  Berenger  came  home,  he  found  her  unusually 
silent.  She  was  by  nature  taciturn,  and  he  had  come 
to  dread  the  exhibitions  of  rage  or  jealousy  which 
usually  followed  these  moods.  He  had  felt  the  trend 
of  her  questioning,  and  had  gone  out  for  a  bit  to  put 
off  the  evil  hour.  The  evening  was  damp  and  cool ;  a 
fine  mist  of  rain  and  low  flying  white  clouds  shut  off 
the  horizon  and  partly  obscured  the  light  of  the  setting 


262  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

sun.  He  was  walking  about  reckless  of  the  fact  that 
his  coat  was  damp,  until  warned  by  the  men  at  the 
stables.  He  knew  what  was  coming;  that  sooner  or 
later  he  would  have  to  face  it.  That  he  had  faced  sim 
ilar  scenes  before  was  of  no  avail,  for  to-night  he  felt 
rebellious.  The  unexpected  chance  meeting  of  to-day 
was  a  revelation.  He  might  be  in  fault  of  course.  But 
he  had  been  forced  to  introduce  them — his  wife  and 
the  woman  he  loved;  and  the  effort  required  to  face 
the  ordeal  had  come  near  making  him  ill ;  and  a  wicked 
searching  look  had  sent  him  flying  down  stairs  to  the 
vestibule;  where  he  had  thrown  himself  upon  the  seat 
he  had  left  a  few  minutes  before,  in  an  agony  of  self- 
reproach  and  despair: — throwing  all  hopes  of  future 
peace  to  the  four  winds  of  Heaven  at  one  wild  sweep. 
He  would  go  to  sea, — he  would  never  come  on  land 
again !  Yes : — if  he  had  to  ship  before  the  mast.  The 
sea  cured  everything. 

He  was  only  a  little  more  tranquil,  but  he  would  go 
in  and  try  not  to  utter  words  which  could  never  be 
forgotten  or  forgiven. 

They  were  seated  on  opposite  sides  of  the  hearth. 

She  was  a  woman  of  good  appearance;  having  a 
wealth  of  blonde  hair  and  a  fine  complexion.  But  the 
agreeable  large  gray  eyes,  were  set  too  closely  under 
the  short  light  brows,  and  the  lower  face  was  marked 
with  a  square  jaw, — full,  loose-lying  lips  and  rather 
large  teeth; — the  latter  being  decidedly  prominent. 
The  united  expression  at  this  time,  was  sullen  and  mo 
rose  in  the  extreme;  and  it  would  be  difficult  to 
imagine  it  capable  of  any  other ;  but  under  favourable 
circumstances,  Mrs.  Berenger's  smile  could  transform 
her  into,  if  not  a  pretty  woman,  at  least,  a  very  attrac 
tive  one;  who  might,  with  this — her  gift  of  voice — 
her  exquisite  taste  in  dress  and  undeniable  musical 
talent,  hold  her  own  against  almost  any  woman,  could 
she  be  content  to  wield  those  weapons.  The  man  op- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  263 

posite  had  glanced  once  in  her  direction  and  turned  his 
back  to  the  lamp;  that  its  rays  might  fall  upon  his 
paper,  and  began  to  read. 

"Archie,  can  you  listen  to  me  for  awhile?"  As  he 
neither  spoke  nor  changed  his  position, — she  said : 

"I  see  you  fear  a  harping  on  the  old  string,  as  you 
told  me  yesterday,  but  I  feel  that  our  future  happiness 
depends  upon  our  understanding  one  another,  and  you 
have  never  been  quite  open  with  me.  There  is  some 
thing  I  want  you  to  explain.  Will  you  listen?" 

"I've  got  to.  Fire  away?  Aim  low,  and  be  quick 
about  it." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  like  that.  Don't  answer  me  in  Texas 
slang — I  neither  like  it  nor  wish  to  hear  it.  What  I 
want  to  ask  you,  is  about — about — the  young  woman 
you  introduced  to  me  in  church  this  morning." 

He  was  looking  straight  into  her  eyes  and  the  look 
was  disconcerting.  She  waited,  expectantly,  a  minute 
or  two,  and  began  again. 

"After  you  left  at  noon,  I  got  to  thinking  about  the 
meaning — of  how  you  could  so  exactly  remember  the 
date  of  your  first  meeting  with  her — after  five  long 
years.  How  was  it?" 

"Suppose  I  decline  to  answer?" 

"That  in  itself,  will  be  a  sufficient  reply — for  I  will 
then  know  the  name  of  the  woman  referred  to  in  your 
letter  to  Randal  Houghton." 

"And  what  then?" 

"I  might  as  well  pack  up  my  belongings  and  go  back 
home,  and  live  once  more  among  decent  people."  All 
good  resolves  took  flight  at  once. 

"You  will  meet  with  no  opposition;  and  I  must 
further  say,  Clara,  that  I  am  sick  to  the  soul,  of  the 
life  you  are  leading  me.  If  you  would  take  your  own 
measure, — you  might  cast  off  your  absurd  airs  of  su 
periority.  You  would  know  that  you  are  far  from 
being  a  beautiful  woman — and  you  would  find  that 
your  speech  is  a  cross  between  that  of  a  Yorkshire 
peasant  and  an  Irish  Canuck.  Quit  boasting — it  is 


264  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

this  self-conceit,  which  keeps  you  from  realizing  the 
fact  that  our  marriage  is  a  mutual  misfortune,  that,  I 
too  may  be  unhappy — you  forget  that  I  told  you  we 
ought  not  to  be  married,  and  that  you  treated  the  as 
surance  as  a  joke.  And  above  all  you  forget  you  have 
married  a  poor  man,  and  that  I  have  to  live  among  the 
people  you  affect  to  despise.'" 

"Oh,  never  fear  that  I  do  not  realize  your  poverty. 
I  have  known  from  the  first  week  of  our  marriage,  that 
my  money  was  all  you  coveted.'" 

"Your  money — how  much  was  it? — I  could  make 
that  much  in  two  years  with  half  a  chance.  And, 
Clara,  really  and  truly,  I  wouldn't  marry  you — with 
my  present  knowledge  of  your  amiable  traits,  for  a  mil 
lion  sterling.  Try  me,  after  your  divorce — if  you  ever 
get  that  much  money." 

Her  eyes  blazed.  "Do  you  know,  Mr.  Berenger,  that 
if  I  go  back  to  Canada,  I  will  take  my  child  ?" 

"I  believe  you  will;  you  have  so  often  made  the 
threat."  Apparently  unmoved  he  took  his  place  by 
the  little  bed,  studying  the  small  features  as  if  reflect 
ing  whether  he  could  bear  it  or  not. 

"I  would  not  try  to  prevent  you,  I  could  never  think 
of  parting  mother  and  child.  I  do  not  know,  Clara, 
whom  to  pity  most,  you  or  myself.  Really  I  can't  see 
the  use  of  trying  to  go  on  with  it." 

This  was  a  phase  in  his  character,  wholly  new  to  Mrs. 
Berenger.  No  one  could  doubt  his  earnestness.  That 
he  would  be  willing  to  part  with  her  and  the  money 
she  had  already  brought  him,  and  the  vastly  greater 
sums  she  would  eventually  inherit,  had  not  entered  her 
mind.  It  was  not  now  a  question  of  how  much  he  loved 
her,  but  the  degree  of  dislike  or  hatred,  he  might  have 
for  her.  The  man  cared  for  nothing.  He  would  give 
up  his  child. 

"But  we  will  go  on  with  it,  nevertheless ;  I  begin  to 
see  your  drift,  I  am  no  longer  afraid  of  such  women, 
as  the  two  we  have  so  often  quarreled  about;  I  would 
not  leave  you  if  you  beat  me." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  265 

"Is  that  the  way  you  feel?"  he  asked  in  an  even 
tone,  in  which  there  was  something  of  angry  astonish 
ment — for  he  had  mentally  followed  her  train  of 
thought.  "I  think  I  understand  you,  Clara, — your 
judgment  is  so  warped,  and  your  intelligence  so  be 
sotted  by  jealousy,  that  you  are  not  fit  to  be  the  wife 
of  any  honest  man  or  gentleman.  You  ought  to  have 
married  a  bruiser." 

She  was  looking  down,  her  whole  attitude  expressing 
sullen  rage  and  obstinacy; — seeing  the  determination 
expressed  in  the  square  jaw  of  the  heavy  face,  he  con 
tinued  : — 

"But  it  might  be  a  waste  of  time,  Clara,  for  me  to 
wait  for  you  to  leave.  It  would  be  perhaps,  best  for 
me  to  make  the  first  move." 

The  effect  of  this  suggestion  was  electrical — her  face 
paled,  and  she  replied  with  something  like  appeal  in 
her  voice. 

"Archie,  have  you  never  loved  me  in  the  least?  You 
have  never  plainly  told  me  that  you  did."  In  an  instant, 
he  was  sorry  for  her. 

"Have  I  ever  implied  it?"  half  laughing. 

"You  have  always  evaded  answering  outright,  just 
as  you  are  doing  now.  Tell  me — have  you  ever  loved 
me?  I  want  to  know.  It  is  best  that  we  understand 
each  other,  as  I  said  at  first." 

"Isn't  that  a  hazardous  question  to  ask  just  now?" 
beginning  to  laugh.  Then  reflecting  how  little  their 
unhappy  relations  had  to  do  with  mirth, — he  said  seri 
ously  : — 

"If  you  will  answer  truthfully,  two  or  three  ques 
tions,  I  will  tell  you  afterwards,  what  I  think  of  you." 

"I  will  answer  them — and  truthfully." 

"The  questions  bear  upon  a  delicate  point — the  an 
swers  will  decide  its  nature.  It  is  a  test."  Sittting 
down  opposite,  and  regarding  her  quizzically  —  he 
beean. 

"In  the  first  place,  Clara,  do  vou  love  me?" 


266  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"Love  you?"  Her  eyes  roaming  over  the  perfect 
head,  face  and  figure — "Love  you,  Archie?  How  can 
you  ask?"  Rising  and  not  heeding  his  efforts  to  repel 
her,  she  threw  her  arms  around  him,  and  buried  her 
face  in  the  soft,  dark  beard; — then  raising  her  head, 
she  repeatedly  kissed  him — a  rain  of  kisses — at  ran 
dom, — on  head,  face,  and  brow. 

"Can't  you  see  how  I  love  you?" 

"Yes,  Clara,  I  think  I  do,"  he  said  as  he  arose  and 
extricated  himself  from  her  embrace.  Leading  her  to 
her  seat,  he  began  again. 

"Now  for  the  second  question.  Clara,  I  want  to  know 
what  you  would  do  under  the  conditions  I  am  about  to 
place  before  you.  Suppose  for  instance,  we  had  a  war 
— there  is  one  brewing  now,  if  I'm  not  greatly  mis 
taken—" 

"But  you'll  not  be  in  it,  Archie, — you  are  an  English 
man  and — " 

"Oh  yes,  we  all  know  that,  but  that's  neither  here  nor 
there,  in  this  case — but  I  may  be  in  it  nevertheless. 
And  suppose  I  might  lose  a  leg?"  He  had  begun  to 
laugh  again.  "A  leg — this  leg,"  touching  his  right  one 
high  up  on  the  thigh.  "And  this  arm  near  the 
shoulder, — and  an  eye.  I  have  found  that  you  have 
a  brilliant  imagination — fancy  how  I'd  look!"  She  an 
swered  deliberately: 

"How  you  would  look!  Without  an  eye;  and  with 
one  arm  and  a  leg  gone !  How  unfortunate  that  would 
be !  It  would  ruin  you !  What  would  I  do  ?  There  are 
places  for  all  such  soldiers  as  are  disabled  in  that 
way : — in  England  and — " 

"I  would  not  be  admitted  there  if  I  had  fought  in 
other  armies  than  British." 

"Well,  they  would  have  some  kind  of  a  home  or  hos 
pital  here.  And  I,  Archie,  I  would  look  after  you  and 
see  that  you  lacked  for  nothing; — truthfully  I  would." 

"Would  you  really,  Clara?  But  think  how  sorry  I'd 
be  to  know  that  you  no  longer  loved  me ;  that  you  could 
bear  to  part  from  me." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  267 

"No  longer  love  you,  Archie?  I  would  take  care  of 
you.  Of  course,  a  man  with  but  one  eye,  and  but  one 
arm,  and  with  a  leg  off,  would  be  happier  in  a  place 
like  a  hospital,  where  they  know  how  to  deal  with  such 
unfortunate  people  and  what  is  best  for  them.  But 
don't  speak  of  it.  I  can  fancy  I  see  you  limping  about 
on  crutches.  No.  I  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  it ;  but 
I  certainly  would  take  care  of  you ;  like  that  Mrs.  Wil- 
mot  took  care  of  her  husband  when  he  went  insane.  I 
would  make  a  point  of  seeing  that  you  were  always 
comfortable." 

"Then  you  love  me  now,  because  I  am  a  perfect 
man?" 

"Now?  You  are  the  most  perfect  man  in  Christen 
dom,  I  truly  believe.  I  could  never  forget  that.  And 
I  would  not  hesitate  to  use  my  own  money  to  help  you, 
if  you  should  ever  be  in  such  an  awful  plight  as  the 
one  you  have  just  described,"  affirmed  Mrs.  Berenger, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  had  capped  the  climax  of  true 
benevolence. 

"And  now  that  you  know,  Archie,  how  I  would  act, 
— you  can  answer  my  question.  Do  you  love  me  as 
much  as  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Berenger,  with  italicized 
pronouns. 

"Honestly,  Clara,  I  do.  If  you  were  to  lose  all  those 
things  I  mentioned,  I  would  certainly  get  you  admitted 
into  some  fine  hospital,  and  see  that  you  were  made  as 
comfortable  as  circumstances  would  allow.  I'll  take 
a  turn  in  the  open  air — it's  raw,  damp,  smothering 
weather." 

He  tramped  down  the  gravel  walk  to  its  end,  leaning 
on  the  gate  and  trying  to  think  calmly.  It  had  been 
a  bad  day.  But  who  was  to  blame  more  than  himself. 
From  the  first,  he  had  applied  the  cudgel  solely  to  his 
own  shoulders.  He  should  have  been  more  of  a  man. 
His  fault  seemed  ten-fold  in  magnitude  when  he  re 
membered  his  wife's  satisfaction  when  told  that  her 
love  was  returned  in  full  measure  and  kind — at  least 
she  had  so  understood  it.  That  was  as  far  as  she 


268  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

could  go.  And  her  answers  to  his  questions,  made  a 
good  definition  of  the  thing  which  ninety-nine  men 
and  women  out  of  a  hundred  took  to  be  love. 

"Ah !"  he  said,  thinking  aloud.  "It  ought  not  to  af 
fect  me  like  this.  It  is  only  what  I  knew  to  be  true; 
a  little  worse,  perhaps,  but  there  is  no  use  in  drawing 
fine  lines.  But  I  know  one  who  would  grieve  if  I  were 
so  maimed  and  crippled — and  to  whom  nothing  would 
be  dearer,  than  a  place  by  my  side  throughout  all  etern 
ity.  Poor  Clara !  It  would  be  best  that  she  take  her 
self  off  to  Canada.  Her  grief  at  parting  from  me, 
would  amount  to  nothing.  And  if  dead?  I've  known 
such  widows  to  marry  in  a  month." 


269 


BOOK     II. 
CHAPTER   I. 

THE  BOULDERS. 

It  was  Saturday.  Saturday  is  always  a  holiday  in 
country  schools.  There  were  to  be  picnics;  this  day 
chosen  because  of  the  children.  The  spring  rains  had 
been  generous.  Everywhere  there  were  signs  of  abund 
ant  harvests.  It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  now  after 
the  ravages  wrought  by  time  and  civilization,  to  give 
a  definite  idea  of  the  prairies  and  woodlands  of  Western 
Texas  as  they  appeared  before  the  years  1855-56.  The 
drouth  of  1857  began  the  transformation  and  the  in 
troduction  of  thousands  of  cattle,  and  the  "fencing-in" 
of  almost  uncountable  acres  of  pasture  lands,  completed 
it.  The  destruction  of  prairie  flowers  was  immense' 
some  varieties  being  entirely  destroyed.  Still  the  num 
ber  and  beauty  of  the  different  species  of  Texas  wild- 
flowers  now  extant,  exceeds  that  of  any  other  part  of 
the  world. 

On  this  lovely  day  many  miles  of  the  route  chosen 
by  Felicia  and  her  brother  carried  them  over,  what 
appeared  to  them,  enchanted  ground — left  in  all  its 
perfection  as  when  finished  by  nature's  hand.  Wide 
forests  of  oak,  post-oak  and  black-jack,  running  par 
allel  with  the  valleys  of  the  streams  coursing  to  the 
southeast — great  cedar-brakes  skirting  the  hills  and 
adorning  the  mountains  extending  westward.  To  the 
east  lay  the  prairie's  vast  domain — an  undulating 
level — stretching  for  miles.  Flowers  by  millions  had 
sprung  from  the  earth  untouched  by  human  hands,  or 
aught  else,  save  the  merry  winds  that  played  with  the 


270  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

waters  of  the  mountain  streams  and  set  them  riffling 
in  the  golden  sunshine.  A  waste  of  beauty!  Who 
could  remain  indoors!  There  was  to  be  an  excursion 
to  the  beautiful  Cibolo  country.  Up  where  its  banks 
were  highest  and  the  boulders  biggest.  Of  all  the 
western  streams,  this  little  river  cuts  the  tallest  capers 
when  a  freshet  comes.  In  the  mountainous  regions 
where  it  rises  are  boulders  as  large  as  little  cabins. 
It  runs,  at  one  place,  under  ground  for  thirty  miles 
and  comes  up  again;  the  bed  is  there,  but  is  never 
used  except  when  it  rains.  Its  valleys,  once  the 
home  of  immense  herds  of  buffalo — are  now  pastures 
for  innumerable  cattle  or  are  cultivated  fields  of  corn, 
cotton  and  garden  stuffs. 

Felix  and  Daisy  would  go  on  horse-back. 

"Will  you  wear  a  top-skirt  under  your  habit — Miss 
Felicia?" 

"No,  Candace,  I'm  not  going  to  fish  and  will  hold 
up  my  habit  when  I  walk.  I  am  going  to  sketch  and 
will  take  paper  and  pencil.  My  habit  is  not  long,  it 
will  not  be  in  the  way." 

It  was  a  long  way  off.  It  would  take  some  hours 
to  go  and  come  back.  At  five  o'clock  when  only  the 
light  of  the  rising  sun  could  be  seen  in  the  east,  they 
were  on  the  road.  Chatting  merrily,  they  took  heed 
neither  of  time  nor  distance  and  the  swinging  trot  of 
the  equally  lively  horses  brought  them  three  hours  later 
to  their  destination. 

They  were  not  first  on  the  ground.  But  it  was  not 
the  crowd  they  expected  to  meet;  it  was  another  pic 
nic.  Going  nearer  they  found  they  were  Germans 
and  were  saluted  with  cheers  and  cries: 

"Go  below!  Go  below!  You  don't  belongs  here! 
You  belongs  below!" 

"You  don't  comes  here!"  said  a  rosy-cheeked  frau 
in  a  pretty  red-painted  wagon. 

"Yes,  we  do,"  said  Kaspar,  galloping  up  to  the 
wagon.  "We  want  bread !  Give  us  bread !"  She  gave 
each  of  them  a  dough-nut — spiced  and  with  a  cherry  in 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  271 

the  heart  of  it.  A  man  came  up  with  a  pitcher  and  a 
glass,  giving  first  to  Felix  and  then  to  Kaspar,  a  foam 
ing  goblet  of  beer.  They  drank  to  the  bottom,  though 
they  did  not  like  it,  and  rode  away. 

"Nice  children,"  said  the  man.  "She  called  her 
brother,  Kaspar.  Nice  Cherman  children,  that  is  how 
they  like  the  beer." 

A  half  mile  further  down  were  a  party  of  fifty  or 
more  from  the  Guadalupe — made  up  of  families.  Al 
most  all  the  young  men  and  women  were  already  scat 
tered  along  the  trout  and  bass-holes,  which  had  for 
years  been  stocked  with  fish  and  planted  with  water 
cress  by  order  of  the  government,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  army.  They  were  fishing  above  and  below,  but 
this  was  headquarters,  and  the  black-folks  were  un 
loading  from  the  carriages  and  wagons,  the  eatables 
to  be  cooked;  while  the  jars  of  cream,  bottles  of  wine 
and  cordials  were  transferred  to  cool  places. 

Kaspar  would  cut  a  fishing  pole  and  look  about  for 
bait. 

"I  am  going  to  make  a  sketch  of  that  pretty  place 
on  the  other  side ;  if  anyone  comes,  Daisy,  we  must  be 
civil  for  we  will  be  beggars  when  luncheon  is  served. 
I  brought  nothing  but  this  sketch-book." 

The  house  selected  for  the  sketch  was  a  cabin  of 
mud  and  uncut  stone,  thatched  with  coarse  river  grass. 
There  was  a  tall  pole  hung  with  martin-boxes.  There 
were  hen-houses,  corn-cribs,  pigeon  boxes  and  hay 
stacks — all  having  high  steep  roofs  and  tops.  It  was 
on  a  hill  rising  gently  from  the  bluff  on  the  other 
side.  The  bluff  of  nearly  solid  stone,  sufficiently  slop 
ing  to  allow  of  a  pathway  which  wound  along  the  ledge. 

Up  this  precipitous  ascent,  the  water  for  domestic 
purposes  was  carried.  The  ground  rising  behind  the 
cabin  and  the  trees  on  this  hillock,  together  with  the 
beautiful  sky  made  a  fine  back-ground.  There  was  a 
small  thicket  between  the  boulder  upon  which  Felix 
sat  sketching  and  the  fishing  pool  below.  She  could 


272  AI/ONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

at  intervals  hear  the  cautious  murmurs  and  suppressed 
laughter  of  the  fishermen,  but  could  not  see  them ;  nor 
could  she  see  the  long  deep  waterway  above. 

Susannah  Crofts  came  running  up,  and  would  have 
passed  on,  but  for  being  hailed. 

"Why  do  you  hide  in  the  woods  like  this?  Daisy 
told  me  that  you  were  drawing  a  house.  Oh,  what  a 
pretty  picture  you  are  making!  But  come  with  me, 
Felix,  down  to  the  Glade.  The  whole  country  is  there : 
— men,  women,  and  children — of  all  ages  and  sizes; 
wagons,  carriages,  horses  and  dogs,  and  servants  to 
take  care  of  them  all." 

"Who  all  are  here? — name  them." 

"Everybody  we  know,"  said  Susannah,  running  over 
the  names  of  their  acquaintances — singly  and  in  fam 
ilies — amongst  them  Berenger  and  Liddell." 

"The  Liddells — and  did  you  say  the  Berengers, 
Susie?" 

"No.  The  Liddells  are  all  here.  But  Mr.  Berenger 
and  Arthur  Liddell  disappeared  with  their  fishing 
rods  soon  after  coming;  I  think  they  are  at  the  lower 
trout-hole.  Oh,  there  is  Arthur  now!"  she  exclaimed. 
He  was  crossing  the  opening  above  them,  but  no  one 
was  with  him. 

"Do  come,  Felix,  you  can  touch  that  up  when  we  join 
the  others." 

"Go  away,  Susie;  I  am  uncertain  about  that  corner 
and  the  top  of  this  tree.  Go  along;  I  will  finish  in 
less  than  a  half-hour." 

Left  alone,  Felix  did  not  at  once  take  up  her  pencil ; 
instead,  she  fell  to  thinking.  He  was  here  and  alone; 
had  it  been  otherwise,  she  would  have  found  Daisy  and 
left  forthwith.  Recalling  the  meeting  in  the  organ- 
loft,  she  again  lived  over  the  scene  which  took  place 
there.  The  same  feeling  of  repugnance,  acccompanied 
by  the  same  mysterious  mixture  of  fear  and  resent 
ment,  returned  in  full  force.  For  days  after  she  had 
puzzled  over  the  cause ;  that  there  was  a  cause  for  those 
glances  of  smothered  hatred,  she  could  not  doubt.  The 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE   ROUTE  273 

manifest  coldness  and  constraint  of  the  man  might  be 
interpreted  as  the  result  of  certain  indirect  hints  like 
those  to  which  she  herself  had  been  subjected.  Hints, 
which  taken  in  connection  with  her  father's  warning, 
had  formed  an  impassable  barrier  to  anything  more 
than  a  strictly  formal  intercourse;  but  it  was  not  at 
all  likely  that  Mrs.  Berenger  knew  anything  of  this: 
nor  could  it  be  possible  for  anyone  else  to  have  known 
of  her  former  preference  for  Mrs.  Berenger's  husband. 
She  blushed  at  the  thought  of  it ;  the  rush  of  memories 
so  overwhelmed  her,  that  she  found  it  impossible  to 
go  on  with  her  task;  and  began  to  put  paper  and  pen 
cils  away.  Resting  her  folded  hands  lightly  on  the 
port-folio  in  her  lap,  she  went  on  with  her  reflections. 
She  would  draw  a  tighter  rein  than  ever,  over  all 
thought  in  this  direction;  but  was  it  necessary  to  al 
ways  draw  back  and  refuse  the  well  meant  advances 
towards  a  friendship  which  offered  such  possibilities 
of  future  pleasure  and  perhaps  improvement?  To  her 
mind  there  ought  to  be  nothing  in  the  way.  Mr.  Ber 
enger  had  made  his  choice  at  a  time  when  he  was  free 
to  do  as  he  liked;  and  he  had  not  chosen  her;  there 
fore  he  had  never  loved  her.  At  the  same  time  he  had 
certainly  shown  a  desire  to  become  her  friend. 

She  arose  and  began  to  walk  hurriedly  to  the  Glade. 
A  negro  passed  her,  carrying  a  load  of  fishing  tackle, 
and  a  string  of  fish.  A  few  moments  later  Berenger 
came  up  with  her;  falling  at  once  into  the  frank,  free 
manner  of  other  days. 

"I  thought  I  would  find  you  with  Miss  Crofts,  Miss 
Bathurst;  Liddell  told  me  that  you  were  making  a 
sketch  of  the  little  house  across  the  river." 

"Miss  Crofts  was  in  the  way  and  I  sent  her  about 
her  business.  I  believe  I  have  broken  my  promise  to 
be  with  her  in  less  than  half  an  hour." 

"Well  here  we  are,  and  as  you  see,  there  is  no  harm 
done,  for  she  has  not  waited."  They  were  soon  seated 
and  discussing  the  merits  of  the  picture,  which  Felix 
had  again  taken  out  for  retouching;  the  subject  ex- 


274  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

hausted;  and  other  topics  suggesting  still  others,  they 
talked  as  in  the  days  of  their  first  acquaintance,  with 
out  heeding  the  swiftly  passing  moments. 

The  negro  cooks  in  white  aprons  and  turbans,  were 
busily  making  fires  in  the  chosen  spot  near  the  ford; 
some  ladies  of  the  party  were  superintending  these 
efforts  which  were  to  result  in  the  coming  feast.  The 
camping  ground  around  about  them  was  practically 
deserted,  as  indeed  it  had  been  since  early  in  the  day. 
It  was  thought  by  the  workers  at  the  ford  that  all  the 
heads  had  been  counted,  when  a  troop  of  Rangers  and 
cow-boys,  just  off  a  round-up  armed,  booted  and 
spurred,  came  clanking  down  the  winding  road  around 
the  bluff,  leaving  their  horses  staked  on  the  grassy 
plain  above ;  and  being  minus  hook  or  line,  spread  their 
Mexican  blankets  on  the  ground,  sat  down,  or  lay  down 
to  rest,  sleep  or  play  at  cards,  without  anybody's  leave. 
But  it  was  a  well-known  fact  that  there  were  gentlemen 
among  them,  and  that  although  they  were  in  the  long- 
run,  a  rollicking,  devil-may-care  set,  they  were  not  to 
be  feared.  Now  and  then  an  acquaintance  would  come 
along,  invariably  stopping  and  settling  down  with 
them  and  very  soon  doubling  their  number,  and  with 
faces  gladdened  by  pleasure,  sat  in  groups  or  circles 
in  animated  conversation,  while  others  listening  to 
jest  or  song  broke  into  loud  laughter  or  a  burst  of 
applause.  And  when  close  upon  the  hour  of  noon,  the 
scattered  throngs,  tired  and  hungry,  began  to  move 
towards  the  base  of  supplies,  they,  one  and  all,  with 
the  familiarity  engendered  by  the  transient  intimacy 
resulting  from  meetings  like  this,  greeted  the  attrac 
tive  and  picturesque  visitors  with  surprise  and  pleas 
ure;  gaily  calling  out  in  passing  the  warmest  words 
of  welcome. 

"Berenger,  let  us  take  a  look  at  those  grapes  across 
the  river,"  said  Monroe,  who  had  come  in  with  Susan 
nah  Crofts.  "We'll  have  plenty  of  time,  it  will  take 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  275 

at  least  an  hour  to  cook  the  fish;  I  know  for  I've  just 
now  come  from  the  fires,  and  they  have  only  begun 
on  the  latest  catch." 

They  went;  meeting  Houghton  coming  up  from  be 
low  with  a  string  of  silver-sides. 

"Take  your  perch  to  camp  and  come  back,  we're 
going  to  cross  over  and  gather  the  grapes  we  saw  this 
morning." 

"I  don't  think  they're  ripe,  but  you'd  better  hurry 
if  you  want  any  for  there's  a  party  of  a  dozen  or  more 
over  there  after  those  grapes." 

"How  did  they  get  there?" 

"Headed  the  lake — they  were  afraid  of  the  log." 

They  were  young  people, — boys  and  girls,  youths 
and  maidens,  heads  of  families — on  each  side — 
amounting  to  more  than  a  score  of  persons, — but  none 
of  them  gathering  grapes.  Berenger  called  to  young 
Duf field: — "What  of  the  grapes — what  kind." 

"A  delusion  and  a  snare,"  answered  the  young 
Englishman.  "They  are  called  'Coon-grapes,'  and 
won't  be  ripe  till  next  winter,  although  they  look  like 
it  now.  Come  across,  why  don't  you — and  taste  'em? 
Afraid?" 

Berenger  replied  by  walking  over  as  if  on  level 
ground.  Felix  followed  as  easily.  Monroe  hesitated, 
then  said: — 

"It's  tempting  fate ;  I  won't  do  it.  Susannah  started 
and  turned  back. 

"Don't  go,  Miss  Crofts." 

"I  will,"  said  Susannah,  and  walked  across. 

Here,  differing  from  other  portions  of  the  stream, 
the  channel  though  but  little  wider,  is  not  adorned  by 
the  shady  holms  which  seem  to  protect,  as  well  as 
ornament  it  throughout  all  its  length. 

Instead  of  the  usual  four,  there  were  but  two  banks, 
rising  from  the  rocky  bottom  slopingly,  they  reached 
upward  some  thirty  feet  or  more,  being  not  more  than 
the  same  distance  apart  at  the  top  from  bank  to  bank. 
The  bottom  consisted  of  broken,  jagged  rocks  of  more 


276  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

or  less  size,  through  which  wound  its  way  a  stream  of 
water  not  three  feet  wide.  Across  the  top  was  a 
crossing  of  logs  made  from  a  couple  of  sapling  pecan 
trees,  carefully  joined  at  the  ends,  to  get  the  required 
length,  the  diameter  not  exceeding  eight  inches. 

"Like  walking  a  rope,  wasn't  it  Miss  Crofts?"  asked 
young  Duffield,  who  had  been  laughing  at  her  un 
certain  steps. 

"Very  like.  But  it  takes  practice.  I'll  do  better 
when  I  go  back." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  laughing  and  banter  about 
returning.  After  a  time  they  began  to  go  back.  A 
number  of  them,  afraid  to  try  it,  were  watching  others, 
more  venturous.  Among  those  who  intended  yet  to 
cross  were  Susannah,  Felicia  and  Berenger.  Berenger 
stood  some  distance  away,  talking  to  Duffield.  Felicia 
was  trying  to  persuade  Miss  Crofts  not  to  attempt  it, 
but  to  go  around  the  lake  with  others  who  were  still 
waiting. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid,  I'll  go  over  here." 

"Go  on  then,  I  will  look  after  you,  if  you  fall." 

Susannah,  when  a  little  less  than  half  way  over, 
began  to  reel.  Trying  to  return,  she  lost  her  foothold 
and  fell  heavily.  Clinging  with  both  arms  and  legs, 
she  held  on — half  paralyzed  with  fear  of  what  awaited 
her  below.  The  women  and  children  screamed — the 
men  seemed  stupif ied  with  horror. 

"Hold  on,  Miss  Crofts !"  said  Berenger,  running  and 
colliding  with  Felicia,  who  ahead  of  him  had  also  made 
a  dash  for  the  log.  "My  darling !  would  you  be  killed !" 
he  exclaimed,  giving  her  a  shove  that  sent  her  sprawl 
ing  on  the  ground.  In  a  bound  he  reached  Miss  Crofts 
and  seated  firmly  astride  the  crossing,  raised  hei 
to  a  sitting  position  beside  him.  She  was  safe  ana 
all  was  over.  It  was  nothing  any  way — at  least  so  it 
seemed.  Miss  Crofts  was  short  and  stout — dizzy  and 
hysterical — the  efforts  of  Berenger,  Monroe  and  others 
to  effect  her  landing,  brought  bursts  of  incontrollable 
merriment  from  the  young  people  on  both  sides  of  the 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  277 

stream.  Felicia,  it  appeared,  had  escaped  notice.  Fall 
ing  upon  her  hands  into  the  midst  of  a  moving  crowd 
she  had  instantly  regained  her  feet,  and  her  friend's 
danger  being  first  in  mind,  she  was  hardly  aware 
of  the  slight  bruise  on  her  cheek,  or  that  her  hands 
were  bleeding  from  contact  with  the  sharp-edged 
stones  upon  which  she  had  been  so  violently  thrown. 
Nor  was  she  conscious  of  the  full  meaning  and  prob 
able  effect  of  Berenger's  unfortunate  exclamation. 
She  was  among  the  first  to  reach  the  other  side,  where 
Susannah  stood  receiving  the  congratulations  of  the 
women  surrounding  her.  But  it  was  not  all  sunshine; 
a  few  low-toned  words  and  knowing  glances  were 
heard  and  seen  to  come  from  the  outskirts;  and  now 
that  all  danger  was  past,  there  was  no  restraint.  There 
were  teasing  witticisms  in  which  Susannah  joined 
heartily;  a  tipsy  Ranger  called  out: — "Which  one  is 
his  darlin' — the  one  he  knocked  down — or  the  one  he 
picked  up?"  Felix  did  not  laugh.  Looking  past  a 
group  of  men  and  boys  and  seeing  Berenger  and  Mon 
roe, — who,  standing  apart  from  the  others,  were  also 
laughing, — without  sign  or  word  to  anyone,  she  left 
the  place  and  going  around  the  low-growing  vines  and 
brush  about  the  bank  was  soon  out  of  sight;  going 
faster,  she  came  upon  Kaspar  who  had  heard  of  the 
accident  and  was  running  breathlessly  to  meet  her. 

"Quick — Daisy!  Let  us  get  our  horses,  I'm  going 
home!"  Appalled  by  the  blood  on  her  hands,  which 
until  now  she  had  kept  concealed,  he  could  not  speak, 
but  hurried  on  with  her  to  the  place  where  they  left 
their  horses. 

"I  have  had  a  fall,  Daisy,  I  will  tell  you  about  it  as 
we  go."  They  were  gone  when  the  others  reached  the 
camp. 


William  Monroe,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  called  himself 
an  old  bachelor,  giving  in  explanation  that  if  a  man 
married  at  twenty-one  or  younger  he  took  his  place 


278  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

among  his  kind  as  a  benedict.  If  predestined  to  walk 
in  single  file,  why  not  assume  the  title  with  the  role. 
An  all  round  description  could  be  given  him  in  the 
word  'gentleman/  if  it  were  not  necessary  to  say  that 
he  was  a  soldier  as  well;  and  that  long  before  he  was 
twenty-five  he  was  recognized  among  his  companions 
as  one  who  would  make  duty  paramount,  without  fear 
and  without  hope  of  reward. 

It  does  not  often  fall  to  the  lot  of  so  young  a  man — 
this  opportunity  of  fighting  bravely  upon  a  dozen  bat 
tle-fields.  Neither  does  it  often  happen  that  such  de 
votion  goes  quite  unrecognized  by  the  government  to 
which  such  soldiers  belong,  and  to  whose  service  they 
cheerfully  offer  their  lives.  But  pages  might  be  writ 
ten  about  this  which  would  be  irrelevant  here.  It  was 
a  fact,  however,  that  although  Monroe  never  got  rid 
of  a  ball  received  at  Chapultepec,  from  which  he  still 
suffered  and  limped,  he  was  never  promoted  or  pen 
sioned.  The  limp,  it  was  true  was  becoming — giving 
as  was  once  said  of  another, — but  foreign  soldier — a 
curious  distinction  to  his  gait;  a  distinction  which 
might  be  said  to  have  been  conferred  in  a  round  about 
way  by  the  government  he  served. 

There  were  only  two  men  left  at  the  crossing.  Beren- 
ger  was  looking  at  Monroe,  expectantly. 

"That  was  an  unfortunate  remark  of  yours." 

"It  was.    I  hope  it  was  not  noticed." 

"A  fall  from  that  place  would  kill  anybody;  and  in 
the  face  of  such  an  awful  certainty  it  ought  not  to 
have  been  noticed — but  it  was.  Some  of  the  witnesses 
were  full  to  the  cork  before.  Berenger,  it's  the  Devil !" 

"There  was  not  another  man  in  the  gang,  that  was 
half-way  able  to  do  it."  he  went  on,  as  if  think 
ing  aloud.  Berenger,  did  not  answer. 

"By  George!  Berenger,  I'm  glad  you  were  here. 
But  both  of  you  were  compromised  by  what  you  said." 

"What  is  best,  Monroe?  Is  there  anything  I  can  do 
or  say?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  279 

"No.  The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  leave  off 
talking.  How  many  people  besides  me,  have  you  told 
about  this  thing?" 

"The  Houghtons — not  the  whole  family — but  Randal 
and  Larry." 

"Then  how  did  your  wife  come  to  know  of  it?" 

"She  read  a  letter  of  mine  to  Randal,  and  has  a  sus 
picion  of  whom  it  might  be,  but  she  doesn't  know. 
Say — Monroe,  if  you  can  straighten  this  out,  do  it  for 
me.  I'm  going  home,"  rising  as  he  spoke. 

"I'll  do  all  I  can  without  lying,"  said  Monroe.  "But 
what  if  it  come  to  your  wife's  hearing?  It  will  be  im 
possible  to  prevent  that,  I'm  afraid." 

"I'm  not  caring  about  that,  if  you'll  see  that  Miss 
Bathurst  will  not  be  troubled  with  it." 

"All  right.  I  would  almost  be  willing  to  lie  to  pre 
vent  that." 

"There  is  little  to  be  said?"  thought  Monroe,  after 
Berenger  left  him.  Nevertheless  he  took  pains  to  give 
out  that  there  was  a  chance  for  a  man  not  to  see  who 
might  be  in  his  way  in  such  a  moment  of  excitement; 
and  even  if  he  did,  might  use  such  words  to  the  young 
est  baby  or  oldest  grandmother. 

Felicia,  when  at  home,  had  reviewed  the  events  of 
the  day  and  recalled  in  every  detail,  .the  scene  at  the 
crossing.  The  words  whether  inadvertent  or  not,  had 
struck  her  with  a  sense  of  guilt  and  shame.  She  could 
not  bring  her  powers  of  reasoning  to  bear  on  it. 

"I  will  not  think  of  it — or  try  to  do  anything  with 
it ;  but  I  will  tell  father  all  about  it,  from  beginning  to 
end ;  and  we  will  work  incessantly  so  that  we  can  the 
sooner  leave  a  country  in  which  from  the  first  we  have 
been  so  unfortunate."  Miss  Crofts  came  the  same 
evening.  Mr.  Berenger  ,  she  said,  had  passed  her  on 
the  road.  They  had  seen  her  and  Daisy  in  the  distance. 
Mr.  Berenger  was  afraid  Felicia  was  vexed  with  him ; 
that  he  was  the  unfortunate  cause  of  your  very  abrupt 
departure?"  said  Susannah  laughing. 


280  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Of  course,  I  know  why  you  left;  but  Monroe  put  a 
good  face  on  it  and  only  a  few  will  put  a  different  con 
struction  on  what  was  said.  I  know  who  they  are, 
and  it  is  well  understood  what  they  are.  A  few 
women;  and  married  or  single,  they  would  risk  a  fall 
any  time,  for  the  chance  of  being  picked  up  and  called 
pet  names  by  Archie  Berenger ;  and  who,  as  my  father 
said,  when  I  told  him  about  it,  openly  flung  them 
selves  at  his  head  when  he  was  single.  And  he  says 
also,  that  the  penalty  of  marriage  does  not  always  re 
lieve  a  handsome  man  from  such  unlawful  persecution." 

"But  that  is  a  joke  for  mother's  benefit — my  father, 
as  you  know,  being  still  a  handsome  man.  My  parents, 
neither  of  them,  attach  any  importance  to  what  was 
said  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment." 

When  'Felicia  told  her  father,  he  said.  "Berenger 
or  any  other  man  might  have  said  the  same.  I  have 
seen  and  heard  strange  things  done  and  said  under 
such  great  excitement.  I  once  saw  a  man  take  off  his 
hat  and  fan  a  lady  whose  clothing  had  caught  fire; — 
thereby  greatly  increasing  her  danger.  When  asked 
afterwards,  how  he  came  to  do  so  foolish  a  thing,  he 
replied  that  he  was  afraid  she  would  faint.  Mr.  Ber 
enger  has  known  you  since  you  were  quite  young,  his 
intimacy  with  my  family  has  been  of  the  nearest.  His 
friendly  services  in  my  great  trouble  (  the  greatest  an 
noyance  of  my  life)  I  can  never  repay.  But  this!  I 
am  ashamed,  Felix,  your  act  of  itself,  was  an  aspersion. 
I  am  glad  you  have  been  so  candid  in  explanation. 
Monroe  spoke  of  your  running  away,  but  attributed  it 
to  another  cause — some  boys  laughed: — at  little  Miss 
Crofts,  I  believe.  No,  we  will  not  find  fault  with  Mr. 
Berenger,  He  is  very  affectionate  by  nature,  and  the 
terms  of  affection  come  readily  to  his  lips.  He  has 
saved  the  life  of  an  estimable  young  lady.  You  must 
make  amends  Felicia,  for  your  apparent  churlishness, 
but  I  think  everyone  understood  that  you  had  been  fear 
fully  shocked  and  also  your  natural  excitement  from 
the  accident.  I  will  see  Berenger,  myself,  and  tell  him 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  281 

how  it  was.  Of  course  I  will  not  refer  to  what  was  so 
plainly  an  unintentional  use  of  words." 

"That  will  be  best,  for  I  don't  want  to  face  him — to 
go  near  him — now  that  you  have  shown  me  how  bad  it 
is,"  said  Felicia. 

To  all  whom  it  did  not  much  concern,  the  explanation 
of  Monroe  was  accepted,  and  Berenger's  lapse,  only 
remembered  as  a  feature  of  the  incident.  But  Mrs. 
Bentley  was  one  of  those  who,  previous  to  Berenger's 
marriage  had  "thrown  herself  at  his  head."  She  had 
in  common  parlance — "set  her  cap  for  him."  Her  con 
fident  pursuit  of  him  inducing  such  bold  advances  as 
made  his  avoidance  of  her  take  the  form  of  a  repulse. 
She  could  not  hide  her  astonishment  and  rage,  to  add 
to  the  latter,  she  thought  that  Berenger,  who  had  taken 
no  pains  to  conceal  his  dislike  for  her,  had  influenced 
his  friend  and  business  partner,  Larry  Houghton,  who 
was  her  next  choice.  When  she  found  that  she  had 
failed  in  making  the  desired  impression  upon  either  of 
the  young  men,  and  that  they  both  openly  showed  their 
preference  for  a  far  more  beautiful,  attractive,  and 
also,  a  much  younger  lady;  she  felt  all  the  supposed 
bitterness  of  a  woman  scorned.  Now  she  had  the  op 
portunity  of  punishing  at  least  three  of  her  antipathies 
all  at  once.  For  some  kind  friend  had  told  her  that 
Mrs.  Berenger  had  said  disparaging  things  about  her 
self — that  she  was  uncouth — that  she  had  no  tact  and 
was  ignorant  of  the  commonest  form  of  good  manners. 
Their  acquaintance  for  a  long  time  past  had  been  lim 
ited  to  a  stiff  nod.  Very  well !  It  takes  neither  one  of 
these  things  to  show  her  where  she  stands — and  as 
for  Miss  Bathurst,  she's  almost  as  big  a  fool  as  her 
father,  and  follows  his  lordship  wherever  he's  a  mind 
to  lead.  I  will  set  Mrs.  B.  after  her,  and  that  will  be 
good  for  her.  And  really,  I  don't  want  to  do  her  any 
harm,"  she  religiously  added.  In  her  self-deception, 
forgetting  that  Felicia,  of  all  others,  was  most  the 
object  of  her  envy  and  spite.  Time  and  place  were 
soon  found  and  the  incident  related;  not  leaving  out 
the  most  trifling  particular. 


282  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  know,  Mrs.  Berenger,  that  the  use  of  the  endear 
ing  terms  was  inadvertent  and  meant  absolutely  noth 
ing,  and  none  regretted  their  use  more  than  I  did, — 
but  there  were  others  who  remembered  that  they  had 
been  lovers  for  years  before  his  marriage — and  it  was 
also  said  that  Mr.  Berenger's  engagement  to  you  was 
all  that  stood  in  the  way  of  their  happiness.  And  I 
must  say  that  the  way  Felix  Bathurst  follows  him 
about,  although — maybe,  nothing  is  meant  by  it — makes 
such  a  speech  sound  a  little  curious,  no  matter  if  it  was 
a  matter  of  life  and  death  which  brought  it  forth." 

"It  may  be,  but  I  am  sorry  you  told  me" — said  the 
miserable  woman,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  said. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  too,  Mrs.  Berenger, — but  I  was 
sure  you  had  heard  of  it,  and  I  am  sure,  as  I  said  be 
fore,  that  it  was  only  a  slip  of  the  tongue  and  unde 
serving  of  notice.  Please  remember  that  you  asked  for 
the  details." 

Mrs.  Liddell,  at  whose  house  the  conversation  took 
place,  could  or  would  say  nothing ;  but  it  was  with  un 
speakable  regret  that  she  listened  to  it ;  and  did  not  for 
a  moment  conceive  the  idea  that  Mrs.  Bentley's  allu 
sion  to  it  was  anything  but  accidental.  She  was  in 
finitely  sorry  for  Mrs.  Berenger. 

"Were  you  present,  Mrs.  Liddell?"  asked  Mrs.  Ber 
enger,  after  the  departure  of  Mrs.  Bentley — "Did  you 
hear  all  that?" 

"I  saw  and  heard  all;  but  thought  nothing  at  all 
of  what  Mr.  Berenger  said,  until  it  was  given  out 
by  some  one  near  me  as  the  cause  of  Miss  Bathurst's 
running  away.  But  Monroe  said  almost  any  man 
would  use  such  words  to  any  child  or  young  person 
when  under  the  stress  of  extreme  danger.  Monroe 
thought  that  even  if  he  said  such  a  thing,  he  did  not 
believe  it  probable  that  Felicia  heard  it,  while  it  was 
quite  plain  she  was  angry  with  the  boys  for  laughing. 
This  was  confirmed  by  Miss  Crofts." 

"Then  there  is  a  doubt  about  his  saying  it?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  283 

"So  Monroe  seemed  to  think,  and  he  was  nearest; — 
he  had  even  advanced  a  step  or  two  to  assist  Miss 
Crofts.  It  was  all  done  in  less  than  one  minute,  and 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  screaming. 

"But  you  heard  him  use  the  words,  Mrs.  Liddell?" 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Berenger,  I  would  not  swear  to  it, 
but  if  Mr.  Berenger  said  them — do  not  give  it  a  mo 
ment's  consideration.  As  for  their  having  been  lovers  I 
— feel  quite  certain  that  Mrs.  Bentley  is  wrong.  I  do 
not  believe  a  word  of  love  was  ever  spoken  between 
them.  I  do  not  say  there  was  no  idle  talk — and  it  is 
from  such  a  source  that  Mrs.  Bentley  had  gained  the 
idea  that  they  were  lovers.  It  is  absurd.  When  your 
marriage  took  place  I  do  not  think  Felix  was  seventeen 
years  old.  Mr.  Berenger  had,  up  to  that  time,  never 
visited  the  Bathursts." 

Mrs.  Berenger  left  Mrs.  Liddell's  with  the  convic 
tion  firmly  implanted  in  her  mind  that  this  lady  had 
put  the  happiest  construction  upon  the  affair  which 
had  so  distressed  her,  and  that  Mrs.  Bentley  had  told 
the  worst ;  but  she  did  not,  for  several  days  after,  men 
tion  the  matter  to  her  husband;  for  of  late  he  had 
shown  such  anger  and  impatience  at  her  outbreaks  of 
jealousy,  that  she  had  to  some  extent  curbed  her  nat 
ural  recklessness  of  speech.  She  had  gone  about  her 
duties  silently  or  sat  moodily  idle — brooding  with  such 
as  an  appearance  of  misery,  that  at  last  he  began  to 
see  that  she  was  grieved  or  worried  or  was  perhaps  ill. 
This  evening  judging  from  an  increased  gloominess, 
he  would  soon  know.  He  sat  with  a  look  of  expectancy 
which  held  in  it  both  amusement  and  dread ;  for  though 
of  violent  temper  when  feeling  himself  justly  provoked, 
he  was  as  incapable  of  keeping  up  a  quarrel  as  of  sulk 
ing,  or  nursing  a  grievence.  "She  has  not  heard  of  my 
last  misdemeanor,  I'm  sure.  If  she  had  heard  of  that, 
I  also  would  have  heard  something  by  this  time  and 


284  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

have  received  my  punishment.  Besides  no  one  ever 
tells  a  wife  of  things  like  that.  No,  it  isn't  that.  She 
looks  ill." 

"You  are  not  looking  well,  Clara.    Are  you  ill?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  wore  a  look  of  increased 
sullenness. 

"If  you  are  not  ill,  what  is  the  matter?  Is  there  any 
thing  I  can  do  to  help  it?" 

"I  want  to  go  home.  I  am  so  wretchedly  tired  of 
everything  here." 

"And  you  are  moping  yourself  to  death  about  that? 
Why,  there's  nothing  in  the  way  of  your  going  home. 
I  have  even  thought  of  proposing  it." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it ;  you  want  to  be  rid  of  me.  It 
would  leave  a  clear  field  for  your — your — " 

"My  what?  Oh,  no,  Clara,  not  so  bad  as  that.  Our 
home  has  never  been  quite  a  paradise,  but  we  would 
both  be  gainers  I  think,  by  just  such  a  separation.  We 
would  have  time  to  think  wisely  over  our  deficiencies, 
— don't  you  know,  and  like  each  other  better  and  do 
better,  when  we  commence  again — another  thing — " 

"You  wouldn't  go  with  me?" 

"I  couldn't  think  of  it  jusl;  now — I  was  coming  to 
that — you  know  I've  never  given  up  the  hope  of  cutting 
loose  here — of  selling  out.  No,  I  couldn't  leave  just  now. 
And  as  I  was  going  to  say,  there  is  another  thing  we 
must  not  forget.  Your  mother  has  never  seen  the 
children.  She  is  not  strong  and  probably  will  never 
see  them  unless  they  are  taken  to  her.  Go  and  stay 
all  summer — a  year  if  you  like,"  he  added,  as  he  saw 
her  face  brighten  at  the  mention  of  her  mother. 

"That  sounds  well,  Archie,  and  fairly  honest;  but 
why  do  you  keep  back  things — such  as  happened  last 
Saturday  at  The  Boulders,  and  such  as  would  seem 
most  natural  for  any  one  present,  to  think  of,  in  the 
description  of  a  picnic — the  first  thing  one  would  re 
member  to  mention,  I  would  say.  Such  accidents  seldom 
happen  except  in  novels." 

"What  did  you  hear,  Clara?    And  who  told  you? 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  285 

"Mrs.  Bentley  gave  me  a  minute  account  of  it— em 
phasizing  the  coolness  of  your  heroism  and  the  warmth 
of  your  words." 

"I  do  not  remember  that  there  were  many  words. 
One  is  apt  to  say  anything  at  such  a  time;  somebody 
got  in  my  way." 

"You  will  not  tell  me,  Archie,  but  there  were  many 
others  present  who  would  know  if  Mrs.  Bentley  left 
anything  out." 

"She  would  be  more  apt  to  add  something.  You 
ought  to  know  that  Mrs.  Bentley  told  you  this  to  trouble 
you." 

"No.  I  think  it  was  merely  by  the  way  of  being  the 
latest  sensation  in  the  Bathurst  family ;  she  doesn't  like 
them,  and  seems  careless  about  showing  her  hatred." 

"Yes.  Hatred  and  jealousy — and  you  might  add — 
envy." 

'  "May  be  so?"  gloomily,  "but,  Archie,  did  you  use 
'terms  of  endearment?'  I  think  that  was  the  phrase 
used  by  Mrs.  Bentley.  You  can  say  whether  you  did 
that  or  not;  even  if  you  don't  know  the  exact  words — 
can't  you?" 

"I  have  said  that  I  cannot  tell."  He  was  very  angry. 
"Get  ready,  Clara,  and  go  to  Canada.  Throw  your 
troubles  to  the  winds,  and  take  better  care  of  yourself." 

"You  really  want  me  to  leave?  You  have  never  be 
fore  made  it  so  plain.  Do  you  know  that  it  is  possible 
I  may  never  come  back?  And  that  I  certainly  will  keep 
my  boys  ?  Do  you  want  to  part  with  them  ?" 

"How  many  times  have  you  made  the  same  threat! 
I  suppose  some  day  I  will  have  to  part  with  them.  You 
are  bent  upon  a  separation." 

"You  know  I  do  not  wish  it?" 

"Then  do  not  continually  threaten  and  seem  to  wish 
it.  If  you  do,  it  will  bring  about  a  similar  wish  on  my 
part.  If  it  should,  I  will  tell  you  but  once.  Believe, 
if  you  can,  that  I  did  not  marry  you  for  your  fortune." 

"I  sometimes  hope  you  did  not,  but  if  not,  I  know 
pretty  well  to  whom  I  owe  the  loss  of  my  husband's 


286  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

love.  I  have  taken  care  to  let  her  know  it  also.  You 
know  whom  I  mean.  There  is  no  longer  any  mystery 
about  the  letter." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  have  accused  anyone?  That 
you  have  talked  about  this  ?  If  you  have,  you  are  nearer 
to  the  accomplishment  of  your  threat  than  you  imagine. 
Please  mention  the  name  of  the  person  accused." 

"What's  the  use?  Everybody  knows;  has  known 
from  the  beginning.  Everyone  except  the  one  most 
concerned — myself.  And  knowing  it,  I  have  given  her 
to  understand  that  I  am  not  blind  to  the  real  character 
of  your  pretended  friendship.  She  will  have  that  to 
ponder  upon  for  the  rest  of  her  life." 

"You  told  her  that.    You  told  Miss  Bathurst  that?" 

"Miss  Bathurst !  Oh,  I  see  you  know  who  is  meant ! 
No,  I  did  not  speak  to  her.  I  met  her  on  the  stairway 
at  Houghton's  and  looked  her  squarely  in  the  face — 
the  haughty  jade!  but  she  understood.  And  now  that 
there  is  no  longer  mystery  about  the  letter,  I  may  say 
that  I  will  make  my  mother  a  visit.  I  will  be  ready  in 
ten  days." 

"You  say  you  looked  at  her?  Even  a  man  of  ordinary 
caution  would  avoid  meeting  one  of  those  looks.  I  am 
glad  you  have  consented  to  go  North;  for,  though  I 
do  not  believe  Miss  Bathurst  would  ever  guess  what 
you  meant,  I  know  she  was  scared,"  said  Archie,  laugh 
ing  in  the  face  of  danger.  "There  is  no  pretence  of  any 
sort  about  our  friendship  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  that 
has  been  confined  to  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  meet 
ings  in  a  year's  time." 


This  quarrel,  like  many  others  preceding  it,  ended 
with  a  partial  readjustment  of  former  conditions  and 
the  parties  parted  in  peace ;  Mrs.  Berenger  going  to  the 
North.  Her  husband  methodical  and  systematic  in 
business,  living  wherever  his  presence  might  be  re 
quired.  It  was  believed  that  Mrs.  Berenger  was  not 
greatly  missed  by  her  neighbors;  some  of  them,  like 


287 


Laura  Houghton,  who  had  witnessed  the  scene  on  the 
stairway,  frankly  admitting  that  they  wouldn't  care  if 
she  never  came  back.  It  was  the  opinion  of  many  who 
knew  them  both,  that  Mr.  Berenger  shared  in  this 
openly  expressed  wish;  some  of  these  alleging  that  he 
had  lapsed  into  intimacy  with  certain  of  his  former 
bachelor  associates,  and  that  in  every  way  he  was  hap 
pier  and  more  like  himself.  Many  little  changes  had 
come  about.  Coming  events  were  crowding  others  out 
of  the  public  mind.  Mrs.  Crompton's  annual  New  Year 
ball  was  in  the  near  future.  A  great  preacher  was 
coming,  and  a  revival  in  religion  was  expected. 

"I  hope  your  wife  will  be  at  home  in  time  for  my 
daughter-in-law's  yearly  ball,"  said  the  elder  Mrs. 
Compton  to  Mr.  Berenger. 

"She  writes  that  she  may  be  detained  until  late  in 
December." 

"Still  she  may  be  in  time — and  you?  You  will  re 
joice,  I  know ;  she  has  been  away  so  long." 

"It  was  unavoidable,  and  it  has  been  lonely  at  home." 

A  guarded  reply — it  would  seem  to  those  who  might 
understand.  But  perhaps  he  was  as  ignorant  of  the 
under-current  of  gossip  as  the  elder  Mrs.  Crompton; 
who  indeed  lived  very  much  out  of  the  pale  of  those 
who  delighted  in  this  species  of  tattling,  and  would  not 
know  Mrs.  Ardin  or  Mrs.  Kenyon  if  she  met  them. 

Paul,  who  had  been  called  from  home  by  urgent  bus 
iness  had  not  been  able  to  see  Berenger,  much  to  Feli 
cia's  perplexity;  for  although  she  had  met  Mrs.  Ber- 
enger's  rebuff  with  a  gentle  look  of  surprise,  she  had 
hardly  thought  of  it  again;  yet  believing  with  her 
father  that  she  had  been  grossly  at  fault,  in  both  act 
and  judgment  concerning  Berenger  himself,  she  had 
shyly  avoided  meeting  him — feeling  a  greater  reserve 
than  ever  before  towards  them  both ;  although  not  con 
necting  him  with  Mrs.  Berenger's  rudeness ;  the  latter, 
she  thought,  might  be  due  to  the  fact  of  her  never  hav 
ing  called  while  living  at  Little  Kosta.  Of  late  she  had 
noticed  something  like  avoidance  on  his  part.  She 


288  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

wondered  not  a  little  as  to  the  cause  of  this.  There 
were  several  disagreeable  possibilities.  Perhaps  his 
wife  had  imparted  her  grievance  to  him,  whatever  that 
might  be.  How  could  she  know  or  suspect  even,  that 
he  was  ashamed  to  meet  her.  The  truth  was  that  he 
had  been  told  by  those  whose  friendship  he  could  not 
doubt,  that  his  wife  was  most  to  blame  of  all.  That 
her  outspoken  animosity  had  given  colour  to  reports 
that  otherwise  would  have  passed  unnoticed.  Thus 
after  being  told  of  the  coarse  insult  at  Houghton's,  he 
abandoned  all  hope  of  further  intimacy  for  Felicia's 
sake.  It  would  end,  he  knew,  in  his  leaving  the  coun 
try. 


Weeks  had  multiplied  into  months  since  the  moun 
tain  picnic.  Felicia  riding  with  Laura  Ridley,  was 
crossing  a  lane  when  at  the  other  end  of  it  they  saw 
Berenger  approaching  them,  also  on  horseback.  He 
was  riding  in  a  gallop.  Acting  under  the  full  influ 
ence  of  her  father's  opinion,  she  resolved  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  this  opportunity  of  ending  the  growing  cool 
ness  and  avoidance  on  his  part,  whatever  might  come 
afterwards.  She  signaled  her  companion  to  stop. 
They  waited.  Scarcely  checking  his  horse  he  was 
about  to  pass  on  with  a  bow,  when  Felicia  calling  to 
him,  he  came  back;  crossing  the  lane  to  be  in  talking 
distance,  she  rode  quite  near  and  held  out  her  hand; 
which  he  seeming  not  to  see,  she  withdrew  timidly  and 
began  at  once : — 

"I  have  an  apology  to  make.  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  sorry  for  what  I  did  at  The  Boulders  a  month  or 
two  ago.  If  it  mattered,  I  would  make  the  same  amends 
to  all  who  were  present.  Now  that  I  am  in  my  right 
mind,  I  wish  especially  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me."  He 
bowed  slightly — smiling  a  little — but  without  making 
other  answer.  She  began  again,  thinking  what  Susan 
nah  had  said  of  his  displeasure.  "After  Miss  Crofts 
told  me  what  you  thought  of  me,  I  wanted  my  father 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  289 

to  see  you  and  apologize  for  me,  but  he  had  to  return 
to  the  Nueces  after  only  a  day  at  home.  I  hope  you 
understand  how  it  was." 

Looking  down,  he  said  he  thought  every  one  under 
stood  how  it  was,  and  that  she  had  done  nothing  re 
quiring  an  apology.  He  spoke  with  a  certain  restraint 
and  after  a  few  moments  of  embarrassed  silence,  made 
some  courteous  inquiries  of  Laura  and  left  them.  For 
a  little  time,  IFelix  doubted  the  prudence  of  what  she 
had  done,  but  upon  reflection  she  remembered  that  she 
had  been  prompted  by  her  father's  advice.  It  was 
right,  but  she  felt  unaccountably  depressed.  After  a 
mental  struggle  of  some  length,  she  concluded  that  he, 
like  her  father,  looked  upon  her  act  as  an  impeach 
ment. 

With  Berenger  it  was  different.  He  had  not  been 
able  to  make  up  his  mind  about  the  real  cause  of  her 
hasty  departure;  and  was  inclined  to  believe  with 
Monroe  that  the  laughter  of  the  young  men  and  boys 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  In  spite  of  all  better  reason 
ing  he  half  resented  her  act. 

Now  it  dawned  upon  him  that  he  may  have  been 
mistaken,  that  with  the  screaming  of  women  and  the 
bawling  of  children  she  had  not  heard  anything  else. 
It  was  the  heartless  behavior  of  the  young  men  and 
boys.  Otherwise  she  could  not  have  faced  him  so 
frankly.  How  could  he  have  been  vexed  with  her? 
His  heart  smote  him,  when  he  thought  of  her  gentle 
deprecating  manner,  after  he  had  ignored  the  out 
stretched  hand.  What  more  could  she  have  done?  It 
was  the  first  time  they  had  met,  and  she  had  waited 
for  him.  Suppose  she  did  run  away?  She  was  always 
a  little  coward.  He  recalled  their  first  meeting,  and 
how  she  had  then  turned  to  run  away  from  him — how 
pretty  she  looked  in  her  childish  rage — and  how  grace 
ful.  Most  women  ran  awkwardly,  but  hers  was  the 
light  fleeting  of  a  fawn — the  swift-gliding  step  of  a 

wood-nymph.  He  had  learned  incidentally,  from  Mon- 
10 


290  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

roe's  declaration  that  after  all  the  noise,  Miss  Bathurst 
was  the  only  one  present  who  was  really  hurt ;  he,  him 
self,  having  noticed  the  condition  of  her  hands  and 
face. 

To  this  he  answered  that  such  wounds  were  nothing 
in  comparison  to  what  she  might  have  encountered,  had 
she  been  allowed  to  come  in  contact  with  Miss  Crofts, 
whose  violent  efforts  at  self-preservation  would  tax  the 
strength  of  the  strongest  man. 

He  learned  also  from  Monroe,  that  Felix  had  not, 
at  least  outside  of  her  home  circle,  mentioned  her 
wounds  and  bruises;  therefore  these  must  have  been 
trifling.  How  different  she  was  from  anybody  else, 
and  why  had  he  so  readily  accepted  the  suggestion  of 
anyone  as  to  the  cause  of  her  hurried  departure?  It 
might  have  been  a  physical  hurt  which  demanded  at 
tention  and  to  which  she  did  not  care  to  call  the  atten 
tion  of  the  vulgar  among  the  multitude  about  her.  He 
would  see  her  again.  He  had  been  too  ready  to  place 
himself  in  leading  strings;  with  all  due  regard  for 
Monroe,  he  had  permitted  him  to  go  too  far  in  choosing 
a  pathway  which  would  lead  away  from  all  worth  liv 
ing  for.  Hereafter  he  would  take  no  one  into  his  con 
fidence.  So  great  had  been  his  j<>y  at  the  unexpected 
meeting  he  had  not  considered  what  might  have  been 
the  effect  of  his  half-ironical  reply  to  her  words  of 
apology.  In  fact  he  had  forgotten  it. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  291 


CHAPTER  II. 
INDIAN  SUMMER. 

Paul  Bathurst  had  sold  the  L.  K.  ranch  at  a  quarter 
less  its  value — he  had  been  impelled  to  this  by  under 
estimating  the  amount  of  his  debts — large  amounts  be 
ing  due  in  San  Antonio  for  Mrs.  Robinson's  extrava 
gant  purchases,  which  were  not  known  to  exist  until 
the  time  of  the  investigation  which  took  place  immedi 
ately  after  her  exposure  and  departure.  The  partial 
sacrifice  of  the  property  was  many  times  more  than 
balanced  by  the  peace  of  mind  which  followed.  The 
acreage  at  the  Talbert  fields  was  greater  than  those  of 
Little  Kosta,  and  promised  satisfactory  returns  in  the 
crops  now  in  cultivation.  The  lack  of  ready  money  for 
household  expenses  had  for  many  months  been  a  seri 
ous  consideration.  The  united  efforts  of  his  daughter 
and  his  faithful  servants  had  enabled  him  to  tide  over 
this  distressing  period,  but  their  combined  labor  was 
not  sufficient  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  opulent 
well  doing.  Clothing,  equipage  and  all  other  belong 
ings  were  taking  on  a  look  of  shabbiness  which  was 
very  nearly  past  redemption.  But  still  there  was  a 
morbid  fear  of  failure.  Felix  had  taught  her  school 
successfully  and  its  various  duties  had  not  proved  to 
be  too  great  a  tax  upon  her  strength.  She  had  won 
enconiums  from  the  first  week;  but  it  was  with  diffi 
culty  that  she  persuaded  her  father  to  permit  her  to 
teach  another  term  of  the  same  length;  allowing  time 
for  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  beginning  in  January, 
1859.  He  was  now  certain  the  following  year  would 
find  him  square  with  the  world.  "We  will  make  it 
doubly  certain,"  said  Felix,  who  now  knew  that  over- 
confidence  and  generosity  were  her  father's  predomi- 


292  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

nant  faults.  This  knowlege  had  caused  a  rigid  econ 
omy  in  certain  matters,  but  chiefly  in  such  as  included 
her  own  personal  expenditure. 

"Everyone  who  has  reached  the  middle  age  has  real 
ized  that  youth,  the  period  between  childhood  and  mid 
dle  life,  is,  or  ought  to  be,  the  happiest  one  in  the 
four  stages,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  You  are 
wasting  the  best  years  of  your  life,  my  dear  child.  I 
admit  you  have  great  administrative  powers  and  cap 
able  supporters,  and  without  your  help  and  theirs,  I 
would  now  be  ruined,  but  you  might  as  well  give  up 
this  school, — there  is  now  no  need  for  it." 

"The  patrons  of  the  school  want  me  to  teach  longer, 
father,  for  this  reason.  In  two  or  three  months  they 
will  have  built  a  school  house  near  the  Esterhoff  place 
— as  you  know,  it  is  just  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above  us. 
They  have  in  view  a  teacher — a  German  who  speaks 
and  teaches  the  best  of  English  and  German.  There 
will  be  built  near  the  school  house  a  cottage  for  his 
family;  some  of  whom  will  be  under-teachers.  If  I 
stop  teaching,  the  children  will  either  have  to  wait 
until  all  this  is  done,  or  go  to  the  other  schools  four  or 
five  miles  above  or  below.  I  would  like  to  commence 
in  January." 

"Are  you  entirely  willing,  Felicia?  Are  you  happy 
in  this  work?" 

"Happiness  is  no  name  for  the  enthusiasm — the  joy 
I  feel  in  the  work  and  its  results;  believing  that  each 
day  brings  us  nearer  the  time  to  which  we  all  look  for 
ward  with  such  yearning;  when  we  will  leave  this 
country — this  beautiful  country — the  loveliest  on  earth, 
but  which  no  longer  seems  like  home,  on  account  of  the 
overwhelming  sorrows  we  have  had  to  bear." 

"That  is  true.  That,  7,  at  least,  can  understand. 
The  humiliations  brought  about  by  my  own  weakness 
and  folly." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  293 

"I  do  not  think  that,  father,  I  have  never  thought  of 
that  part  of  our  experience  as  of  a  thing  which  wisdom 
— human  wisdom  could  avert.  It  was  a  misfortune  for 
which  I  never  for  an  instant  blamed  you." 

"If  you  are  bent  on  this  kind  of  life,  Felicia,  do  not 
throw  yourself  so  completely  into  it.  Take  in  the  Christ 
mas  holidays  which  are  so  close  upon  us.  Go  to  the 
neighbouring  towns;  you  have  friends  in  all  of  them. 
Attend  their  dinners,  dances  and  all  entertainments  for 
young  persons,  and  have  them  return  your  visits.  It 
is  best  for  you ;  and  it  will  comfort  me  more  than  you 
can  ever  imagine." 

"Will  it,  father?  Then  I  will  go  and  be  gay;  and 
furthermore,  I  will  promise  you  to  quit  teaching  when 
this  term  is  out." 


It  was  November,  Felicia  had  kept  her  word.  The 
new  building  had  been  turned  over  to  competent  teach 
ers,  she  resigning  all  interest  except  in  the  advanced 
German-English  class,  assembled  once  a  week  in  the 
evening  as  the  others  were  dismissed.  In  this  she  was 
only  half-teacher,  half-pupil.  The  membership  being 
made  up  of  the  best  German  and  American  element  in 
the  settlement,  it  became  a  select  social  function;  de 
scribed  to  Paul  as  being  like  any  other  party  in  which 
literary  subjects  formed  the  staple  of  conversation  and 
refreshments  were  served.  Though  not  actually  gay, 
Felix  had  in  other  ways  tried  to  please  her  father ;  but 
for  manifest  reasons  she  had  made  short  visits  to  the 
cities  of  San  Antonio,  Austin  and  the  newer  neighbor 
ing  towns.  As  feared  from  the  beginning,  upon  closer 
examination  than  she  had  been  able  to  give  while  teach 
ing,  she  found  that  new  complications  had  arisen  and 
that  great  care  and  economy  were  imperative  if  she 
would  keep  her  father's  business  affairs  from  further 
entanglement. 

It  was  true  that  Candace,  an  authority  in  such  mat 
ters,  had  made  a  few  evening  toilettes — exquisite  and 


294  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

complete — and  had  announced  that  she  had  material 
for  many  more;  but  these  were  from  Andrea's  ward 
robe  and  made  over.  But  the  hats,  dresses,  habits  and 
the  numberless  small  other  things  demanded  by  the 
same  authority,  called  for  a  sum  that  Felix  at  first 
sight  declared  out  of  the  question. 

Not  being  able  to  buy,  they  were  obliged  to  find  some 
way  of  making  the  old  look  new.  It  was  found  that 
this  could  be  done  at  very  little  expense  in  the  Summer 
months;  but  now  when  cooler  days  were  coming,  the 
white  dresses  which  had  been  so  serviceable  must  be 
given  up. 

"We  will  find  a  way,  Candace ;  I  will  make  my  visits 
short,  and  have  my  friends  come  here  where  you  will 
be  on  hand  to  keep  me  in  order.  Beside,  there  will  be 
nothing  lacking  in  our  home  entertainments,  as  we 
have  everything  at  the  ranch  to  make  our  visitors 
comfortable." 

Felicia  had  never  been  affected  by  these  petty  trials, 
indeed  she  had  derived  a  certain  kind  of  amusement 
from  this  particular  kind  of  misery.  The  feeling  that 
this  was  soon  to  end,  the  gloom  dispelled  and  the  shore 
in  sight,  Paul  also  felt  the  charm  of  it ;  being  drawn  to 
old  ways  and  habits  to  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger;  for  though  still  in  love  with  the  wild  scen 
ery  and  roving  life  of  the  Southwest,  he  acknowledged 
to  himself  that  although  he  could  admire  he  had  no 
desire  to  imitate ;  and  would  welcome  the  hour  when  he 
could  go  back  to  his  books  untroubled  by  other  obliga 
tions. 

All  had  been  accomplished  without  aid.  He,  Felix 
and  Daisy  had  fought  it  out  alone.  How  easily  this 
sordid  life  of  the  past  few  years  might  have  been 
avoided.  His  dear  mother — and  Darius — would  have 
esteemed  it  a  glad  opportunity  to  show  their  unbounded 
love  for  them  all.  Their  more  intelligent  negroes  had 
shown  an  independent  pride  greater  even  than  their 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  295 

own.  Dear  old  Yorke,  who  had  kept  each  one  up  to 
his  part,  and  would  have  shouldered  the  whole  load  if 
it  were  possible. 

Perhaps  after  all  it  was  best.  Kaspar  could  now  go 
to  college.  And  Felicia — it  had  not  hurt  Felicia.  She 
had  grown  up  so  beautiful,  so  good  and  so  beloved. 

Here  in  this  part  of  the  world,  Indian  Summer  makes 
its  appearance  in  November.  Like  a  movable  feast, 
it  may  run  its  course  in  the  first,  or  be  delayed  to  the 
last  days  of  the  month.  It  was  here  now ;  coming  in  a 
haze  of  golden  mist — giving  colour  to  everything  it 
touched.  Making  the  land  one  of  enchanting  loveliness 
— suggestive  of  a  refined  Sybaritism  or  spiritual  epi 
cureanism — with  never  aught  of  the  gross  or  sensual. 
In  the  long  twilights  the  air  is  filled  with  chirping 
katydids,  whirring  night  birds,  bullbats  and  luminous 
fireflies.  The  people  would  take  advantage  of  it. 

There  had  just  came  to  San  Antonio,  a  young  clergy 
man  from  Ireland.  A  man  of  great  ability.  A  disciple 
of  the  secession  church  of  that  country,  which  is  an 
offshoot  of  the  Scottish  Presbyterian,  Secession 
church.  This  peculiarity  in  his  views  of  the  Presby 
terian  faith  would  alone  have  made  him  popular  with 
the  different  Western  congregations  of  like  religious 
views,  but  the  man  himself  was  one  of  the  best  fellows 
in  the  world.  Of  good  family — gay,  witty,  frolicsome 
— he  was  of  a  disposition  which,  taken  in  considera 
tion  with  his  slight  erect  figure  and  military  bearing, 
caused  many  to  wonder  that  his  parents  had  not  given 
him  a  soldier's  training  instead  of  devoting  him  to  the 
service  of  the  church.  His  eloquence  had  already  given 
him  prominence,  and  the  congregation  at  Bethlehem 
knew  they  had  secured  a  prize  when  he  consented  to 
preach  for  them  for  three  days  in  succession.  No  build 
ing  in  all  the  country  around  would  hold  the  assemblies 
which  hitherto  had  gathered  at  other  places  to  greet 
him.  People  flocked  from  distances  of  fifty  to  a  hun 
dred  miles  to  hear  him.  They  would  have  an  arbor. 


296  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Choosing  the  most  beautiful  spot,  upon  a  well  shaded, 
level  plateau  near  the  site  of  Bethlehem — they  built  it ; 
covering  it  with  branches  of  mountain  cedar  hauled 
from  a  distance — and  with  other  evergreens  growing 
nearby.  A  rustic  pulpit  was  constructed  and  number 
less  benches  brought  from  schools  and  churches  and 
placed  so  as  to  form  aisles  in  this  open-air  place  of  wor 
ship.  The  crowd  exceeded  their  expectations,  and  so, 
for  that  matter,  did  the  young  preacher,  and  it  did  not 
need  the  villages,  postoffices,  parks,  streets  and  sta 
tions  afterwards  named  in  his  honor,  to  keep  in  the 
minds  of  those  who  heard  him — the  brilliant,  fascinat 
ing  lovable  young  Irishman. 

"Felix,  you  must  come  down  the  river  and  see  and 
hear  our  preacher,"  said  Mrs.  Durham,  a  member  of 
the  Bethlehem  church.  "He  can  give  us  only  three 
days,  and  one  of  them  is  gone." 

Felix  demurred.  Father  was  away — Kaspar  was 
with  him — the  carriage  was  being  repaired.  "I'll  take 
you.  I  will  send  for  you  early  tomorrow  morning.  You 
will  go  both  Saturday  and  Sunday."  There  was  no  gain 
saying  this.  They  were  on  hand  at  the  commencement 
of  services  and  selected  a  seat  near  the  front  row  of 
benches.  It  is  needless  to  speak  of  the  enraptured  audi 
ence  or  the  sparkling  eloquence  of  the  speaker — whose 
oratory  seemed  a  part  of  himself.  Seated  on  his  right, 
was  his  father,  a  grave,  distinguished  looking  man  of 
fifty  or  more  years,  with  several  clergymen  and  prom 
inent  members  of  the  church;  back  of  these  sat  Ber- 
enger,  Monroe  and  Crompton  and  many  others.  Young 
men  well  known  to  Felicia,  who,  after  her  father's  re 
moval  to  the  Talbert  place  had  not  often  met  any  of 
them.  She  had  let  it  be  understood  that  her  evenings, 
as  well  as  her  mornings  would  be  devoted  to  her  work, 
and  she  would  have  no  time  to  entertain  or  be  enter 
tained.  It  was  this  decision  which,  more  than  all,  had 
saddened  her  father,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  see  the 
necessity  of  it.  Monroe  and  the  brothers  Houghton 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  297 

came  forward  and  greeted  her — remaining  to  talk  a 
bit  while  Mrs.  Durham  chatted  with  friends.  The 
young  preacher  had  evidently  observed  the  beautiful 
girl — he  had  been  made  known  to  Mrs.  Durham  the 
day  before,  and  as  soon  as  possible  excused  himself  to 
the  venerable  men  about  him  and  running  down  the 
aisle  with  boyish  haste,  caught  up  with  them. 

"I  want  to  be  introduced  to  your  daughter,  Mistress 
Durham." 

"My  daughter?  You  impertinent  young  man!  Do 
I  look  so  old?  This  is  Miss  Bathurst;  Felix,  let  me 
introduce  Mr.  Mordaunt."  Felix,  bowing  and  speaking 
in  a  complimentary  way  of  the  distance  she  had  come 
to  hear  him  preach,  stood  waiting  for  her  voluble 
companion.  Mordaunt  was  intently  watching  the 
changing  expression  of  the  lovely  features — replying 
only  with  a  slight  bow  or  entirely  at  random  to  Mrs. 
Durham,  and  following  her  graceful  movements  as  she 
gave  way  to  the  eager  throng  which  surrounded  him — 
he  stood  staring  until  the  gay  laughter  of  the  young 
people  recalled  him  to  himself,  when  he  too  joined  in 
their  fun,  the  gayest  of  them  all. 

"Did  you  see  that  3-oungster  lose  his  head  just  now?" 
asked  Mr.  Crofts  of  Berenger,  who  was  looking  on. 
"B'St.  Patrick,  I  thought  he  was  going  all  the  way  home 
with  her,  like  any  other  Irishman — preacher  or  layman. 
Such  a  man  would  suit  Miss  Bathurst  to  a  dot." 

Archie  Berenger  did  not  require  the  almost  ludicrous 
effect  of  Felicia's  beauty  upon  the  young  Irishman,  to 
bring  him  to  a  knowledge  of  his  own  plight  or  danger, 
as  he  would  have  named  it.  For  in  spite  of  his  mar 
riage  and  all  that  had  come  with  it,  he  had  not  con 
cealed  from  himself  a  reliance  on  his  belief  of  a  return 
in  full  of  a  love  that  had  been  the  ruling  power  in  his 
life  since  the  first  hour  of  their  meeting.  To  his  mind, 
this  was  the  true  cause  of  her  indifference  to  all  other 
men.  But  would  it  continue  to  be?  It  would  be  hard 


298  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

for  any  woman  to  resist  the  impassioned  pleading  of 
a  Sun-God.  And  of  such,  was  this  man  typical.  As 
far  as  he  could  see,  there  was  nothing  in  the  way  of 
such  a  union — both  parties  being  of  the  same  mind. 
But  even  if  not  of  the  same  mind,  there  would  be 
others. 

Compelled  by  business  contracts  to  travel  over  a  vast 
scope  of  territory — from  one  county  or  town  to  an 
other,  and  to  the  many  military  posts  at  distant  and 
different  points  on  the  frontier,  he  had  heard  much 
of  the  pretty  girl  with  a  boy's  name;  both  men  and 
women  repeating  her  praises ;  all  who  had  seen,  admir 
ing — something  which  could  not  be  attributed  to  the 
always  predominant  number  of  the  masculine  element 
in  a  new  country — for  her  beauty  was  of  a  class  that 
would  be  recognized  in  the  over  crowded  old  world 
cities.  If  ever  he  was  careless  or  doubtful  of  what  he 
wanted,  he  knew  now.  Losing  his  customary  self-as 
surance  and  thinking  of  the  late  reserve  which  had 
grown  up  between  them,  he  resolved  in  defiance  of  the 
past,  to  resume  his  former  friendly  relations  at  least. 
He  still  felt  abashed  when  he  remembered  the  scene 
on  the  stairway  at  Houghton's;  but  he  determined  to 
act;  believing  the  Irishman's  impulsive  exhibition  of 
feeling  to  be  the  incentive  most  needed. 

There  was  a  letter  at  home  to  begin  with;  one  re 
ceived  from  his  wife  a  day  or  two  before,  which  he 
had  read  with  weariness  and  pigeon-holed  with  indif 
ference.  Now  it  might  be  of  importance;  he  would 
read  it  again  and  take  care  of  it.  It  told  of  a  legacy, 
hinted  at  the  companionship  of  an  old  suitor,  and, 
without  mentioning  his  children,  expressed  her  often 
reiterated  resolution  of  making  her  home  in  the  North. 
He  would  not  answer  it. 

To  most  men  the  resumption  of  their  former  friendly 
relations  would  mean  no  great  change.  It  would  take 
a  fine  eye  to  note  the  difference.  To  him  it  would 
mean  a  world — his  world.  In  which  he  would  ask  no 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  299 

more,  if  sure  that  he  would  be  given  no  more.  No  other, 
he  thought,  could  accuse  Felicia  of  more  than  a  pref 
erence  for  himself;  a  congeniality  proceeding  from  a 
like  birth  and  breeding;  but  he  was  sensible  of  a 
stronger  feeling — of  something  which  had  often  caused 
her  to  turn  away  from  him  with  a  look  of  renunciation 
as  saddening  as  it  was  sweet.  No !  There  was  nothing 
he  would  not  brave,  to  be  even  as  they  once  were. 


On  Sunday  the  number  of  persons  assembled  to  hear 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Mordaunt  preach  was  more  than  double 
that  of  the  two  preceding  days.  Cheered  by  the  knowl 
edge  of  his  wide-spread  influence  upon  the  cause  which 
he  advocated — made  obvious  by  this  evidence  of  ap 
preciation,  he  was  at  his  best,  and  those  who  listened 
on  that  day  never  forgot  the  speaker.  Blessed  with 
a  command  of  expressive  language  and  a  quick  intuition 
of  what  would  prove  most  acceptable  and  adaptable  to 
his  hearers,  an  hour's  time  was  the  usual  limit  to  his 
sermons.  Spellbound,  as  it  were,  for  that  space,  the 
audience  would  be  left  with  the  feeling  that  nothing 
had  been  omitted  or  left  unsaid. 

The  people  had  assembled  for  the  afternoon  service, 
a  half  hour  before  the  time  which  had  been  announced 
for  its  beginning.  Berenger  seeing  Felicia  alone,  came 
to  her. 

"Ah — !"  he  said.  "It  has  been  so  long  since  it  was 
like  this,"  and  reckless  whether  she  might  or  might 
not  understand,  he  weftt  on;  "Let  us  make  a  compact 
here  and  now.  After  much  meddling,  comes  defiance. 
Let  us  be  friends  through  all  time;  never  to  doubt — 
never  to  forget.  No  matter  who  may  object  or  inter 
fere.  Will  you?" 

"I  will.    I  am  glad  to  promise  it." 

"Then  I  will  begin  by  continuing  to  sit  beside  you 
throughout  the  sermon  about  to  begin,  as  I  used  to  do 
in  Miss  Boling's  time." 

"And  mother's." 


300  ALONG  THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY 

"And  your  mother's,"  he  said,  softly.  Pausing 
thougthf ully  for  a  minute  or  two,  he  continued : 

"I  think  I  will  always  be  a  little  afraid  of  you,  Miss 
Bathurst,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question."  He  rested 
his  arm  on  the  back  of  the  bench  in  front  of  them  and 
with  his  straw  hat  in  hand,  talked  behind  it  as  a  lady 
sometimes  does  behind  her  fan. 

"May  I  ask  you  this  important  question — and  will 
you  answer  it?" 

"An  important  question?  I  do  not  see  why  I  would 
refuse  to  answer  any  number  of  them.  I  will  answer 
as  many  as  you  like  to  ask." 

"That's  generous ;  but  Mordaunt  will  begin  to  preach 
in  half  an  hour  and  we  would  be  cut  off  in  the  midst 
of  them.  I  will  be  content  with  one — honestly  an 
swered." 

"I  will  answer  it  truly.    You  need  not  hesitate." 

"Why  have  you  shunned  me  of  late — for  many 
months  past?" 

"She  was  silent;  but  the  beautiful,  honest  and  trust 
ful  eyes  looked  him  tenderly  and  thoughtfully  in  the 
face. 

"You  will  not  tell  me." 

"It  is  a  difficult  question." 

"You  admit  then,  that  you  have  shunned  me?" 

"Dear  Mr.  Berenger,  give  me  time  to  think.  It  is  a 
grave  charge.  How  could  I  shun  my  father's  dearest 
friend,  and  consequently  mine.  You  do  not  know  how 
he  loves  you ;  and  I — " 

The  words  which  came  to  her  tongue  so  aptly, 
brought  her  to  herself,  and  blushing  hotly,  she  again 
attempted  to  explain. 

"And  I — Mr.  Berenger,  I — " 

"Do  not  try  to  say  it,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  feel  sure  that 
you  have  not  intentionally  shunned  me.  I  will  ask  a 
less  difficult  question.  You  hold  no  grudge  against  me 
for  anything  I  may  have  said  or  done?" 

"No,  I  have  not.  I  am  incapable  of  it,"  looking  at 
him  reproachfully. 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE;  ROUTE  301 

He  was  about  to  reply,  when  seeing  that  Mrs.  Bentley 
and  her  sister-in-law  were  occupying  seats  on  the  third 
bench  in  front  of  them,  and  that  the  former  had  turned 
squarely  around  and  was  staring  at  them,  he  straight 
ened,  returning  her  gaze  with  a  boldness  that  caused 
her  to  face  about,  as  soon  as  possible;  just  at  this  time 
there  was  silence  and  the  preacher  was  facing  the 
audience.  He  sat  rigidly  erect  during  the  entire  ser 
mon,  noticing  from  time  the  enraptured  and  sympa 
thetic  face  of  the  girl  beside  him  as  she  listened  to  the 
impassioned  speaker. 

"What  does  it  amount  to?"  she  said  at  the  end.  "This 
difference  in  faith.  One  is  apt  to  think  it  consists 
only  in  forms  of  worship  after  listening  to  eloquence 
like  this." 

"Is  it  at  all  likely  that  you  could  become  a  convert  to 
Presbyterianism  ?" 

"No.  I  am  satisfied  to  leave  doctrinal  differences 
alone,  and  contented  to  stay  in  my  present  sheepfold." 

"But  Mordaunt  has  not  yet  touched  upon  such  dif 
ferences.  He  will  doubtless  reach  that  part  of  his 
business  when  he  returns.  If  so,  I  hope  for  the  sake 
of  my  friends  it  may  be  dry  weather ;  on  account  of  the 
mourner's  bench — there  will  have  to  be  one,  don't  you 
know?  It  always  helps  out  proselytism." 

"I  won't  be  present.  It  would  be  going  open-eyed 
into  temptation;  and  it  mightn't  be  dry  weather  and 
I  have  so  few  frocks." 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  your  carriage,"  he  said ;  and 
again  when  out  of  hearing  of  bystanders : 

"Miss  Bathurst,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  must  see 
you  alone — not  necessarily  alone  either.  I  mean  I  have 
something  to  say  in  confidence,  no  matter  where  it  is 
said.  I  know  exactly  what  I  want  to  say,  and  as  there 
is  absolutely  no  harm  in  it,  it  may  be  told  anywhere. 
Are  you  going  to  the  Crompton  ball?  That  will  be 
about  forty  days  off ;  we  will  find  time  to  talk  there — 
if  you  agree?" 


302  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"As  you  please ;  but  do  tell  me  what  it  will  be  about, 
or  it  will  be  worse  than  a  continued  story,  and  I  may 
not  be  able  to  think  of  anything  else — for  forty  days." 

"That  would  be  uncomfortable.  What  I  have  to  tell 
you  depends  on  certain  contingencies — "  He  checked 
himself  and  laughed.  "I  can't  explain ;  but  I'm  going 
to  the  El  Paso  district  on  the  Rio  Grande  and  to  other 
points,  perhaps  in  Mexico,  with  an  exploring  party.  I 
thought  first  of  going  to  California  also.  I  believe  I 
have  told  you  I  would  like  to  live  there.  Wouldn't  you  ? 
School-teachers  get  enormous  wages  on  the  Pacific 
coast.  I  will  start  on  Monday.  I  will  be  away  nearly 
the  whole  forty  days.  We  follow  the  line  of  the  over 
land  stage  route.  George  Dunlevy  heads  the  party.  I 
will  not  see  you  again  because  I  go  to  San  Antonio  on 
the  mail  coach  to-night.  Now,  can  you  wait?" 

"I  see  I  must." 

"Here  comes  Mrs.  Durham  or  I'd  tell  you  at  once. 
Good  bye,  Miss  Bathurst;  when  I  come  back  I  may  be 
able  to  tell  you  all  about  the  Pacific  coast." 

"I  will  be  pleased  to  hear  anything  you  may  have  to 
tell  me  about  that  part  of  the  West,"  she  replied,  a  little 
puzzled  as  to  his  meaning.  But  to  answer  your  ques 
tion  about  living  there — I  will  never  do  that ;  and  as  I 
have  quit  teaching,  you  may  leave  out  the  other  sordid 
things  like  wages,  and  tell  of  snow-capped  mountains, 
deep  gorges,  mountain  streams,  fertile  valleys  and  the 
like,  when  you  come  back: — but  just  now — the  secret 
— do  give  me  a  hint,  Mr.  Berenger.  Mrs.  Durham  is 
not  coming.  Is  it  about  anyone  we  know?  Whom  does 
it  concern?"  He  laughed. 

"Yes,  it  is  about  someone  we  know.  Whom  does  it 
concern? — Several  persons  have  taken  an  interest  in 
it."  She  remembered  the  silent  conflict  of  an  hour 
ago  and  thought  of  Mrs.  Bently. 

"Oh !  It  is  to  be  a  warning." 

"It  might  turn  out  that  way ;  but  Miss  Bathurst,  you 
will  not  be  told  for  many  weeks  yet.  Such  being  the 
case  you  need  not  ask  me  to  pardon  your  curiosity." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  303 

When  Berenger  had  told  all  about  the  exploring 
party,  he  felt  that  his  carefully  planned  question  had 
left  him  in  a  dilemma.  It  had  taken  something  over 
a  day  and  night  to  mature  his  plans.  He  had  recon 
sidered  his  decision  of  the  day  before  in  regard  to  an 
swering  his  wife's  letter;  he  would  leave  that  matter 
to  the  discretion  of  his  counsel.  He  had  long  ago  de 
cided  upon  a  separation;  having  done  this  he  saw  no 
wrong  in  telling  Felicia  of  this.  Now,  although  he 
might  carry  out  this  part  of  his  plan,  he  would  tell  her 
no  more.  He,  as  already  told,  believed  that  she  loved 
him;  indeed  it  might  be  said  that  he  knew  it;  and  in 
trying  to  answer  his  question  she  had  very  nearly, 
though  unconsciously,  admitted  the  fact;  but  she  had 
expressed  more.  She  loved  him  and  had  nearly  told 
him  so ;  but  she  had  no  suspicion  that  her  love  was  re 
turned  ;  and  he  had  learned,  that  in  no  round  about  way 
— by  hint  or  suggestion,  would  he  ever  be  able  to  make 
her  know  that  it  was  returned.  He  learned  how  she  re 
garded  his  impetuous  words  at  the  Boulders.  She  had 
accepted  Monroe's  explanation  of  them.  He  would  have 
to  tell  her  in  plain  words  that  he  loved  her.  Could  he 
ever  do  it?  Would  he  dare?  He  blamed  her  for  her 
blindness — but  how  was  she  to  know?  How  even, 
could  she  guess?  His  manner  to  all  women  was  pretty 
much  the  same;  perhaps  he  was  a  little  more  circum 
spect  in  his  bearing  towards  her.  Her  presence  seemed 
to  compel  it.  "Never  to  doubt,"  was  a  phrase  in  their 
compact.  How  gladly  she  had  acceeded  to  all  his  pro 
posed  conditions.  Doubt  him?  No,  she  would  never 
do  that.  Her  standard  of  honour  was  not  his;  but  he 
must  wait.  Such  were  the  thoughts  that  were  follow 
ing  one  and  another  with  crowding  rapidity,  while 
Mrs.  Durham  was  gossipping  under  the  arbor. 


"Candace,  I  am  going  to  another  ball  at  Crompton's 
How  will  I  dress  ?  We  can  not  afford  to  buy  anything 
new." 


304  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"I  have  been  thinking  it  over,  Miss  Felicia.  We  have 
a  dozen  as  good  as  new  ball  and  dinner  dresses.  We 
have  only  to  choose,  but  I'm  glad  it  is  a  long  time  off ; 
I  want  to  make  something  pretty  and  I  don't  like  to  be 
hurried." 

Here  followed  details  of  fashions,  their  difference  in 
style  and  becomingness  were  discussed — the  new  shape 
in  hoop-skirts — the  width  and  length  of  trains  and 
skirts,  with  other  particulars,  which  if  written  in  detail 
would  give  definite  ideas  of  dress  in  the  latter  fifties. 
The  costume  of  an  era  about  to  close — and  nearing  the 
most  important  epoch  in  the  history  of  our  country, 
and  possibly,  in  that  of  the  world : — that  being  a  point 
yet  to  be  reckoned,  when  traveling  further  along  the 
King's  Highway.  The  hoop-petticoat  was  the  key-note 
of  all  the  toilettes  to  be  worn  to-night.  The  fashion 
had  made  its  appearance  in  this  part  of  Texas  at  about 
the  same  time  of  its  introduction  into  other  parts  of 
the  United  States.  There  were  merchants  at  Galves- 
ton  and  other  seaport  towns  as  well  as  at  San  Antonio, 
who  were  also  importers.  Some  of  these  being  born 
Frenchmen,  naturally  had  brought  in  the  far-famed 
wines  of  their  native  land,  and  with  them  many  pretty 
things  to  wear,  as  well  as  "magasins  des  modes"  show 
ing  how  to  wear  them.  Besides  there  were  travelers, 
and  our  own  Lady's  Books.  The  ladies  at  the  Army 
Posts — coming  and  going — brought  styles  from  New 
Orleans  and  our  Eastern  cities. 

No  hoop  of  past  ages  could  be  advantageously  com 
pared  to  that  worn  in  the  years  between  '56  and  '64  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  Of  flexible  minute  bands  of 
tempered  steel,  with  delicate  covering  of  silk  and  made 
cage-like  with  wide  bands  of  the  same  material — the 
weight  of  one  skirt  would  perhaps  fall  short  of  one 
pound.  Inferior  grades  being  but  little  heavier. 

To-night  they  were  in  full  blast — panniered — en 
train,  bellshaped  and  bustled :  some  of  extravagant  size, 
the  wearer  made  to  look  more  bouffant  by  full  gathered 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  305 

flounces: — others  more  simple  in  form  if  reproduced 
would  remind  one  of  the  bell-shaped  skirts  of  1904-05. 
Worn  with  low  cut  bodices  with  narrow  bands  or  elbow 
sleeves,  with  or  without  the  berthe,  much  of  its  grace 
and  beauty  depended  upon  the  taste  and  ingenuity  of 
the  wearer.  For  even  in  the  much  decried  hoop-skirt, 
it  is  possible  to  look  elegant. 

At  this  period  and  for  many  long  years  after,  men 
carried  fire-arms,  although  east  of  San  Antonio  there 
was  no  longer  any  dread  of  savages. 

Starting  at  an  early  hour  so  as  to  accomplish  the 
distance  (now  greater  by  five  miles  than  before)  in 
time,  they  trotted  on  briskly  until  in  sight  of  the 
dwelling. 

There  were  clouds  and  it  was  cooler.  There  were  no 
bonfires  and  the  house  was  not  so  brilliantly  lighted. 
There  was  one  lamp  only,  and  this  was  hung  in  the 
center  of  an  arch  overhanging  the  veranda  steps,  but 
its  soft  red  rays  extended  but  little  further ;  and  hardly 
making  sufficient  light  to  show  that  the  gallery-benches 
were  in  part  occupied  by  a  few  men  loitering  there. 
Inside  there  were  many  women  and  a  few  half-grown 
children,  and  the  hall  and  all  connecting  rooms  were 
glittering  with  the  light  of  chandeliers.  The  younger 
Mrs.  Crompton  greeted  them  warmly,  and  Felix  was 
about  to  pass  into  the  lighted  hall  on  her  way  to  the 
dressing  room  upstairs  when  Berenger  spoke — coming 
out  of  the  half-darkness. 

"I  have  returned  Miss  Bathurst,  and  just  in  time.  I 
came  home  this  morning." 

He  was  standing  near  the  door  by  a  bench  from 
which  he  had  just  risen.  She  gave  him  her  hand. 
Speaking  to  Monroe,  with  whom  she  also  shook  hands 
— she  said: — 

"I  will  sit  down  here  on  your  bench  for  a  little  while, 
and  if  you  have  not  forgotten,  will  hear  about  the 
wages  in  California." 


306  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


"Come  to  the  dressing-room,  Miss  Bathurst,  or  you 
will  be  late,"  said  Mrs.  Bentley,  who  was  just  behind 
her.  Felix  rose  instantly. 

"I  will  tell  you  while  we  dance.  How  many  can 
you  give  me?  First,  second,  and  third?" 

"One,  at  least — I'm  sure." 

Two  or  three  men  were  sitting  leaning  against  the 
railing  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda.  One  of  them 
whistled  softly  a  few  bars  of  a  song;  repeating  it  two 
or  three  times.  His  companions  laughed. 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Berenger?" 

"Do  I  hear — what  is  it,  Monroe?"  He  had  been 
about  to  follow  Felicia,  who  had  again  stopped  in  the 
hall. 

"Queer  time  and  place  for  that  kind  of  music." 

"What  does  it  mean — and  who  does  it?" 

"It  is  the  refrain  of  a  ribald  song: — and  it's  meant 
for  you;  and  Neil  Boyd  does  it.  It  means  prudence." 

"Oh  yes,  everything  means  that  for  me.  I  don't  think 
I'll  notice  it. 

"Well,  you  are  warned.  Don't  try  to  dance  every 
set  with  Miss  Bathurst,  it  creates  jealousy  among 
the  single  men." 

"Single  men?  At  our  next  private  meeting  I'll  tell 
you  something  about  single  men.  I  will  tell  you  all  I 
know."  Laughing  gayly,  he  left  him. 

Monroe  laughed,  thinking  it  a  pleasantry — something 
amusing  which  he  had  picked  up.  His  eyes  followed 
him, — thinking  how  much  he  had  gained  by  having 
him  for  his  friend;  how  buoyantly  happy  he  had  been 
after  meeting  with  Felix.  Ah!  Any  one,  not  wholly 
blind,  might  read  as  he  ran.  But  nevertheless  he  knew 
his  warning  would  be  heeded.  Yes — heeded  for  a  time, 
and  in  Berenger's  own  way.  Just  now  as  matters  stood 
it  seemed  to  be  growing  worse.  Always  when  his 
thoughts  reached  this  point,  he  remembered  Felicia 
and  dismissed  his  fears.  She  would  always  know  and 
taKe  the  best  way,  no  matter  what  might  come. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  307 


CHAPTER   III. 

"COST   WHAT   IT   MAY." 

When  Felix  entered  the  large  bed-room  used  as  a 
dressing  room,  she  found  in  it  near  a  dozen  young 
ladies  in  different  stages  of  toilette.  Instead  of  the 
glad  welcome  with  which  she  had  always  been  received 
by  the  young  persons  now  present,  many  of  whom  she 
counted  amongst  her  intimate  friends — there  was  a 
stillness — the  buzz  of  soft  voices  ceased — and  receiv 
ing  only  a  nod  of  recognition  from  some,  or  a  cool  good 
evening  from  others — she  took  off  the  long  wrap  which 
covered  her  evening  attire  and  going  to  a  mirror  and 
adding  a  few  touches  to  her  hair  necessary  after  her 
long  drive,  her  simple  preparations  were  complete.  As 
she  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  intending  to  go  below, 
she  heard  someone  running  down  the  corridor  and  two 
of  the  Peyton  girls,  Mary  and  Agnes,  called  out  at  the 
door — "Is  iFelix  Bathurst  here?"  She  was  seized, 
kissed,  and  petted  until  she  thought  no  longer  of  the 
coolness  of  the  others ;  nor  did  she  speculate  upon  the 
possible  meaning  of  it.  They  went  immediately  into 
the  parlour.  "Why,  here's  Felix,  Grandmother,"  said 
both  girls  at  once, — "we  found  her  in  the  dressing- 
room." 

"I  thought  you  might  not  come,  my  dear;  I  was 
afraid  your  father  was  away." 

"You  were  here  at  our  first  ball  and  we  wanted  all 
the  originals  if  possible." 

"It  was  my  first  ball,  also,  and  I  came  with  Kaspar 
and  the  driver.  Father  was  away,  but  I  was  unwilling 
to  miss  the  anniversary." 

"Four  years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Crompton. 

"Four  years  ago — and  I  hardly  dare  to  look  back, 
Mrs.  Crompton." 


ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


"Don't  begin  to  look  back  until  you  have  reached 
my  age.  You  will  then  have  little  else  to  do.  But  it 
will  be  rather  pleasant  than  otherwise.  Our  lives  are 
made  of  patches,  and  like  the  pieces  of  a  home-made 
quilt;  they  may  be  of  gay  or  sober  colour,  and  also 
of  irregular  size.  At  the  end  of  life  you  may  look  over 
it  and  see  how  much  of  harmony  it  shows.  But  we 
are  here  to  be  merry," — with  a  smile,  passing  on  to 
greet  other  guests. 

When  the  music  began  Berenger  claimed  his  dance, 
a  quadrille — saying  little  throughout  its  continuance 
and  leaving  her  at  her  seat  at  the  end.  Monroe  claimed 
the  next  dance  and  began  a  lively  discourse  on  Texas 
winter  birds,  and  duck  shooting  on  the  Gulf  shore. 
Not  being  able  to  finish  in  time,  he  asked  for  another 
dance;  and  hunting-stories  leading  into  Mexico,  the 
subject  easily  changed  into  soldiering — and  here  Felix 
becoming  intensely  interested — a  full  account  of  the 
battle  of  Chapultepec  given  by  one  who  as  a  boy,  had 
helped  to  overpower  the  young  cadets  who  held  out  so 
long  and  fought  so  well;  and  who  will  not  in  a  thou 
sand  years  be  forgotten  by  their  countrymen,  nor  by 
the  brave  of  any  country  in  the  world.  That  the  nar 
rator  and  the  listener  might  get  the  full  benefit  of 
these  many  interesting  details,  they  sat  out  two  dances. 
Monroe  had  left,  being  engaged  for  the  next  co 
tillion — Berenger  was  also  on  the  floor  with  a  part 
ner — and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  was  a  wall 
flower.  She  thought  of  Stromberg  and  wondered 
where  he  was ;  she  had  seen  him  last — standing  under 
the  farther  chandelier,  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall — 
just  four  years  ago  to-night.  She  laughed — six  dances 
and  only  two  men  had  asked  her  to  dance.  She  began 
to  think  of  her  reception  up-stairs.  She  saw  these 
girls  at  odd  times,  whispering  and  looking  at  her.  She 
saw  Mrs.  Bentley  looking  at  her,  while  speaking  at 
different  times,  to  the  many  young  men  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  with  whom  she  had  always  been  a  favourite. 
Several  of  them  had  passed  her  by,  when  she  had  in- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  309 

timated  a  desire  for  them  to  stop  and  talk  to  her.  It 
was  very  much  as  if  she  had  been  sent  to  Coventry. 
It  was  nearing  the  time  for  supper.  Mrs.  Peyton  was 
here  and  there.  Now  in  the  supper-room,  giving  in 
structions  to  servants  and  again  in  the  hall  watching 
the  dancers.  Two  more  dances,  and  thence  to  the  sup 
per-room,  was  understood  by  the  gay  young  crowd. 

"At  last  my  engagements  are  over,  Miss  Bathurst. 
It  has  been  unavoidable.  I  have  had  Mrs.  Bentley  at 
my  elbow  all  the  evening — suggesting  partners — she's 
been  my  best  friend — a  decided  change  of  front;  but 
at  last  I  am  ready  to  tell  you  about  the  high  price  of 
labour  in  California." 

"And  how  is  it?"  she  asked  listlessly. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea,"  he 
said.  "But  I  will  be  better  informed,  some  day,  for  I 
am  going  to  live  there.  Moneyed  men — which  means 
men  with  money,  have  been  looking  along  the  present 
stage-route,  hoping  and  believing  that  one  day  there 
will  be  a  railroad  over  the  same  ground,  and  are  buy 
ing  all  the  available  lands,  on  or  near  it.  I  told  you — 
that  I — "  he  paused. 

"You  told  me  that  you  would  tell  me  something  at 
this  ball,"  said  Felix,  "and  you've  forgotten  it." 

"You  thought  I  wanted  to  go  to  San  Francisco,  to 
teach  ?"  As  he  still  hesitated,  she  asked : — 

"Was  not  that  what  you  meant?  I  have  not  been 
teaching  for  several  months — my  term  ended  in  May. 
I  do  not  know  that  I  will  ever  teach  again.  We  are 
going  East,  and  will  live  in  South  Carolina.  There  is 
no  longer  a  necessity  for  teaching.  Notwithstanding 
this,  I  am  always  interested  in  the  subject  of  wages." 
He  was  sitting  sidewise  on  the  chair,  his  arm  resting 
on  the  back  of  it.  He  had  not  looked  up. 

"You  thought,  as  I  understood,  that  I  wished  to 
earn  more  money — was  not  that  what  you  meant?" — 
again,  she  asked. 


310  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"No,  Miss  Bathurst,  it  was  not  that.  Do  you  re 
member,  a  few  days  before  I  went  to  Montreal, — I 
rode  home  with  you? — " 

"Yes,  I  remember  very  well.  It  was  after  the  Indian 
raid." 

"We  were  about  to  stop  under  a  liveoak  tree,  near 
Bethlehem — to — talk  of  something — " 

"And  Kaspar  came  up." 

"And  Kaspar  came  up — if  he  had  not,  Miss  Bath 
urst,  in  five  minutes  more,  I  would  have  told  you,  what 
I'm  going  to  tell  you  to-night,  and  it  would  have  saved 
us  both  a  world  of  unhappiness."  Just  behind  them, 
a  curtain  moved.  "This  window  opens  on  the 
veranda, — let  us  go  near  the  fireplace."  There  was 
a  small  sofa  in  the  nearest  corner;  they  took  seats 
upon  it. 

The  parlour  was  vacant,  except  for  a  little  girl — 
turning  the  leaves  of  a  music-book  at  the  far  end  of 
the  room — and  themselves.  There  was  the  mingled 
sound  of  dancing  and  music  in  the  hall,  and  of  voices 
and  promenading  outside. 

"Now,  Felix,  do  you  not  know,  what  I  find  it  so  hard 
to  say?" 

"I  do  not,  Mr.  Berenger,  I  can  not  even  guess." 

"Well,  then,  answer  me  this  question.  When  we 
parted  under  the  liveoaks,  it  was  with  the  understand 
ing,  that  if  the  answer  to  a  certain  letter  proved  to  be 
the  one  hoped  for,  I  would  call  at  your  house  and  finish 
the  interrupted  conference.  Do  you  remember?" 

"I  remember.    You  did  not  come." 

"I  did  not  come. — When  I  told  you  good  bye  on  the 
following  Sunday  were  you  sorry?"  For  a  little  time, 
Felix  gazed  at  him  without  answering — then  turn 
ing  pale  and  looking  down  with  quivering  lips.  Once 
or  twice  she  had  raised  her  hand  to  her  throat  or  face, 
as  if  to  keep  back  her  emotion,  but  making  no  effort 
to  speak. 

"You  do  not  like  to  say?  But  I  may  tell  you,  that — 
knowing  that  I  am  a  man,  and  that  I  can  hold  my  own 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  311 

with  any  man  living,  who  is  blessed  with  the  same  ad 
vantages  as  I  have  found  I  possess;  a  discovery  con 
firmed  in  my  journey  to  the  West,  I  am  going  to  San 
Francisco  to  live — and  I  want  you  to  go."  Again  she 
raised  her  eyes.  He  had  bent  a  little  forward  and — 
with  his  face  close  to  hers,  was  intently  regarding  her 
through  half-closed  lids.  "You  must — you  do  know 
my  meaning." 

"You  say,  Mr.  Berenger,  that  you  are  going  to  San 
Francisco — that  you  have  certain  business  oppor 
tunities  in  which  your  success  is  assured.  I  have  told 
you  my  father  will  soon  go  East  to  live.  I — I  do  not 
understand  you." 

"You  do  understand  me: — you  have  understood 
yourself,"  he  went  on  angrily,  "others  have  under 
stood  us  both — so  well,  that  our  names  are  bywords. 
What  is  the  use  of  allowing  others,  or  the  wishes  or 
opinions  of  others,  to  ruin  our  lives!  Now  hear  my 
proposition.  It  goes  without  saying,  that  I  will  allow 
no  harm  to  come  to  you  through  me.  I  will  not  even 
come  near  you,  until  I  have  overcome  'certain  diffi 
culties  of  which  we  are  both  aware,  but  I  will  explain 
to  you  just  what  I  mean  to  do — "  But  Felix  had  risen, 
and  stood  shrinking — as  if  dismayed,  saying  in  a 
strained  voice. 

"I — believe — I  know  you  have  mistaken  me.  I  think 
I  know  what  you  mean.  Oh !  I  will  not  talk  about  it," 
she  stammered.  The  dancers  coming  into  the  room, 
she  passed  with  the  crowd,  and  leaving  by  a  side  door 
went  up-stairs.  Meeting  one  of  the  house-servants 
on  the  stairway,  she  ordered  her  carriage  and  asked 
him  to  see  that  the  driver  was  given  something  to  eat, 
and  to  let  her  know  when  it  was  done.  She  had  a 
headache  and  was  going  home;  not  to  disturb  her 
brother  until  all  was  ready.  But  Mrs.  Peyton,  missing 
her  when  supper  was  announced,  came  up  herself ;  then 
returning  to  her  guests  sent  up  a  cup  of  coffee. 


312  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Quietly  and  unobserved,  Felix  left  the  house.  She 
had  not  proceeded  far  on  her  way  when  she  heard  the 
gallop  of  a  horse  and  Monroe  came  up. 

"I  saw  you  leaving,  Miss  Bathurst,  and  thought  it 
best  to  follow  you  as  our  route  is  the  same,  and  long 
and  lonesome  besides.  You  will  be  little  less  afraid." 

"I've  got  a  pistol  under  the  seat,  Mashe  Billy,"  said 
Yorke. 

"Have  you,  Yorke?    Then  I  won't  be  afraid." 

The  coming  of  Monroe  was  a  mercy,  as  by  Daisy's 
request  they  had  exchanged,  Monroe  giving  up  his 
horse  and  taking  a  seat  in  the  carriage.  Always  in 
teresting,  to-night  his  company  had  the  effect  of  keep 
ing  back  the  rush  of  conflicting  thoughts .  which  had 
at  first  bewildered  Felicia  and  caused  her  head  to 
throb  with  pain.  The  midnight  journey  was  soon  ac 
complished. 


"Do  not  get  up  Candace;  and  do  not  wake  Betty. 
I  can  get  off  my  clothes  alone.  I  took  a  head-ache 
and  came  home ;  but  it  is  over ;  the  night-air  cured  me. 
I  will  tell  you  about  the  ball  to-morrow."  Yet  seated 
in  a  chair,  she  did  not  rise  from  it  until  a  striking 
clock  told  the  near  approach  of  morning;  when  re 
moving  her  evening  gown  she  dressed  for  the  day,  and 
again  sat  down.  Refreshed  by  her  bath,  she  could 
now  think.  She  had  been  trying  to  bring  order  out 
of  confusion,  by  going  back  into  the  past  and  review 
ing  every  incident,  in  its  own  order  and  date,  which 
had  occurred  in  her  intercourse  with  Berenger.  By 
this  effort,  bringing  to  light  much  that  heretofore 
had  been  hidden  or  misunderstood.  But  what  did  he 
mean  when  he  said  that  no  harm  should  come  to  her 
through  him?  Was  it  that  he  and  his  wife  had  in 
reality  separated, — and  that  he  or  she  contemplated 
a  divorce?  This  thought  was  suggested  by  reports  to 
which  she  had  scarcely  listened.  "Their  names  were 
bywords?"  Had  her  name  been  mentioned  publicly 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  313 

in  connection  with  this  scandal?  And  was  that  the 
reason  why  she  was  so  insulted  last  night?  So  ignored 
by  men  and  shunned  by  women?  She  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands  in  an  agony  of  shame.  And  he 
had  accused  her  of  knowing  and  understanding  all 
this!  She  felt  a  momentary  anger  at  the  thought. 
Her  father  had  been  brought  up  in  a  state  wherein  all 
divorced  persons  were  under  a  social  ban.  A  State  in 
which  a  divorce  was  never  granted.  And  such  per 
sons  coming  in  from  other  States,  were  completely 
ostracised;  and  she  had  always  pitied  them  as  beings 
of  a  separate  class — an  objectionable  class  The 
German-English  school  had  prospered  beyond  all  ex 
pectation.  She  had  been  entreated  to  take  a  class  in 
English  grammar;  her  own  progress  in  German  had 
been  amazing,  for  that  reason  the  German  teachers 
wished  her  to  take  this  advanced  class.  It  would  take 
daily  only  one  hour  of  her  time;  she  was  only  with 
held  from  accepting  by  lack  of  her  father's  consent. 
Now  she  would  give  up  her  pleading.  If  her  name  was 
a  byword,  she  might  be  put  out  when  they  come  to 
know  it.  And  would  it  not  be  best  to  give  up  her  class 
in  catechism  at  St.  Andrews  ? — Would  she  not  be  asked 
to  give  that  up  also?  How  could  he  hope  to  explain 
anything  so  inexcusable?  Ought  she  to  have  listened? 
Yet  perhaps  it  was  best,  for  why  had  he  been  in  such 
haste?  If  determined  upon  a  divorce,  why  did  he  not 
wait  until  it  was  an  accomplished  fact.  How,  under 
existing  conditions,  could  he  fail  to  see  the  impro 
priety  of  such  a  conversation  as  the  one  he  introduced 
last  night?  "He  is  simply  impulsive  and  recklessly 
imprudent,  and  has  too  little  respect  for  women — be 
lieving  them  to  be  all  alike,"  she  thought,  with  a  blush 
which  she  felt  to  her  finger  tips. 

The  longing  for  advice  and  sympathy  was  great, 
but  she  would  not  go  outside  of  her  own  family  for 
either,  and  excepting  her  father  they  were  all  too  far 
away.  Yet  if  near,  would  they,  not  lay  the  whole 


314  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

blame  upon  her — and  righteously?  Her  father  would 
be  just;  she  was  certain  of  that.  She  knew  that  she 
would  be  wisely  reproved  for  her  part, — but  what 
would  he  think  of  Archie  Berenger?  The  man  he  loved 
as  a  son! 

She  arose  and  stood  by  the  window  looking  at  the 
rising  sun — still  low  in  the  east,  showing  through  the 
leafless  branches  of  trees  on  the  tops  of  the  high  hills 
— westward,  forty  miles  away !  New  Year's  day,  1860 ! 

No,  she  would  not  trouble  her  father.  And  really 
there  was  no  use  in  it — her  lips  compressed  in  scorn 
at  the  thought  of  it — she  needed  no  advice  to  keep  her 
from  running  away  with  a  married  man.  But  he  loved 
her! 

Reverting  again.  In  the  consternation  which  fol 
lowed,  she  had  checked  a  feeling  of  joy  at  the  discov 
ery,  but  in  the  conflict  which  came  after,  had  forgot 
ten.  Had  she  been  hasty?  Quickly  receptive,  his  al 
lusion  to  the  disappointing  letter  and  their  parting 
afterwards  at  Bethlehem,  told  her  that  he  had  always 
loved  her;  and  more: — that  he  was  aware  of  her  own 
love  in  return.  This  reflection  took  away  all  doubt 
of  the  propriety  of  her  action  of  last  night;  a  feeling 
of  resentment  taking  the  place  of  regret.  He  had 
known  of  her  grief — her  agony — for  that  was  what  it 
had  been,  and  had  turned  away.  She  would  ask  no 
advice.  Notwithstanding  her  character  in  the  settle 
ment,  she  would  take  care  of  herself. 

The  sun  was  up.  Loud  shouts  of  holiday  merriment 
were  to  be  heard  from  every  part  of  the  ranch;  her 
father  would  be  home  at  noon.  She  put  on  a  light  wrap 
and  calling  the  hounds  went  out  in  the  sunlight  for  a 
walk. 


"Whereto,  Archie?" 

"I've  been  looking  for  you,  Monroe ;  I  am  in  trouble 
— I'm  going  for  my  horse." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  315 

"So  am  I — going  for  my  horse.  I  hear  that  Miss 
Bathurst  has  gone  home;  I  am  going  to  follow  her; 
and  you — why  are  you  leaving  so  early?" 

"Come  away  from  the  gate  and  I  will  tell  you." 
Speaking  earnestly  and  rapidly  for  a  few  minutes,  he 
asked : 

"Wouldn't  I  better  go?" 

"By  no  means — I  will  go,"  was  answered  dryly.  A 
man  bringing  his  horse  at  the  moment,  he  at  once 
mounted  and  was  off  at  a  gallop. 

It  had  taken  only  a  little  time  for  Monroe  to  see  the 
isolation  of  his  favorite  and  less  to  find  out  the  cause. 
But  his  astonishment  was  quite  as  great  as  his  anger, 
when  he  learned  who  did  it  and  how  it  was  done.  The 
work  of  a  set  who  under  any  just  decision  ought  not 
to  have  been  admitted  as  guests  by  a  family  like  the 
Cromptons.  Their  admittance  due  alone  to  the  good 
nature  of  their  hostess;  who  would  have  felt  doubly 
outraged  had  she  known  of  it;  in  the  first  place  she 
would  feel  the  object  of  their  malice  to  be  immeasur 
ably  above  them,  and  secondly  they  had  tried  to  injure 
a  valued  friend;  abusing  the  hospitality  of  her  roof 
to  accomplish  their  purpose.  Only  thus  far  had  Mon 
roe  gone;  not  connecting  Berenger  with  the  incident 
until  now.  After  his  warning,  he  felt  justly  provoked 
and  begun  to  wonder  what  the  end  would  be. 

Berenger  stood  for  a  few  minutes  in  great  perplex 
ity,  and  annoyance  at  having  the  matter  so  suddenly 
taken  off  his  hands ;  but  knowing  that  he  had  not  been 
fully  understood,  another  time  would  do  as  well  for 
what  he  had  to  say,  and  he  would  by  some  means  have 
another  interview.  He  went  home.  Approaching  the 
house  he  saw  that  all  the  rooms  were  lighted.  His 
heart  contracted.  Could  it  be  possible  his  wife  had 
returned.  He  had  no  cause  to  think  she  had;  he  had 
taken  her  at  her  word,  and  had  received  no  warning. 


316  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Oh,  it  can't  be  that!"  he  muttered.  "It  may  be 
some  of  the  boys." 

Warren  was  coming  down  the  walk  to  the  gate. 

"What  is  it,  Warren?" 

"I'm  sorry  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Archie,  but  Mrs.  Berenger 
is  here." 

He  had  told  this  man,  an  old  and  trusted  servant, 
that  Mrs.  Berenger  was  not  coming  back.  That  their 
separation  was  final;  and  after  that  many  boxes  had 
been  shipped  northward  and  the  old  way  of  house 
keeping  had  been  resumed. 

"I  won't  go  in,  Warren ;  I  won't  get  down.  I  will 
go  at  once  to  Ruyter's  and  put  up." 

"Is  there  anything  in  the  world  I  can  do  for  you, 
sir?" 

"No,  Warren,  no  one  could  help  just  now.  Are  the 
children  here?" 

"No,  sir,  she  left  them  at  the  station  below.  Her 
uncle  Mr.  Wellborn  is  with  them;  she  thought  the 
house  might  be  closed  or  out  of  order.  They  will  come 
to-morrow." 

"Get  my  own  team  ready  at  five  o'clock  to-morrow, 
and  send  Miguel  for  the  other  wagon.  Put  in  every 
thing  we  had  last  year." 

At  six  o'clock  next  morning  the  journey  to  the  west 
began.  The  ensuing  five  months  were  given  to  active 
work  along  the  road  and  at  other  points,  and  except 
for  short  intervals  of  three  or  four  hours  in  length, 
which  were  devoted  to  inquiries  and  suggestions  about 
the  management  of  the  stock-farm  he  never  went 
home,  but  made  his  headquarters  at  Casa  de  Campo. 
In  these  visits  he  made  a  point  of  always  seeing  his 
children.  But  his  intercourse  with  his  wife  was  con 
fined  to  matters  of  business  in  which  they  would  be 
compelled  by  law  to  have  a  mututal  interest. 

It  was  the  accepted  belief  of  all  outsiders  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Berenger  lived  separate  lives.  To  their 
mutual  friends  they  had  grown  extremely  reticent.  It 
was  known  that  the  elder  Berenger  and  his  wife  were 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  317 

coming  to  Texas  with  a  view  to  bringing  about  a  re 
conciliation  which  it  was  hoped  would  bring  them  to 
gether  once  more.  This  came  out  through  the  loquac 
ity  of  the  black  cook  employed  by  Mrs.  Berenger. 
The  term  "employed"  is  used  because  the  Berengers 
owned  no  slaves.  From  the  same  source  it  was  also 
learned  that  Mrs.  Berenger  would  never  have  returned 
from  the  North  had  it  not  been  for  the  influence  of  her 
mother  and  other  near  relatives,  and  that  her  uncle, 
the  Rev.  Arthur  Welborn,  had  also  come  to  the  Lone 
Star  State  in  time  to  meet  the  senior  Berenger — hop 
ing  their  united  efforts  would  do,  what  singly  they 
might  fail  to  accomplish. 

Felicia,  without  giving  herself  time  to  repine  or 
grieve  over  the  inevitable,  plunged  into  her  duties  and 
for  three  months  more,  the  little  plantation  was  like  a 
bee  hive ; — the  successes  of  last  year  adding  zest  to  the 
labours  of  the  present.  She  rarely  heard  from  the 
lower  neighborhood  but  some  of  its  occurrences  had 
come  to  her  knowledge.  The  village  postoffice,  at  this 
time,  in  Texas,  differed  perhaps  from  that  of  New 
England  or  other  parts  of  the  United  States,  only  in 
a  cosmopolitan  sense — the  crowds  gathered  around 
it  being  citizens,  many  of  them  from  nowhere,  strag 
glers  along  the  highway  of  the  world — and  from  all 
parts  of  the  world;  but  there  was  a  preponderance  of 
the  national  element,  which  was  shown  by  the  Satur 
day  weekly  gatherings  about  the  stores  as  well  as  the 
postoffice  at  Casa  de  Campo.  It  was  always  there  on 
Saturdays  to  get  its  mail  and  the  fine  wines  and 
stronger  liquors,  always  kept  at  the  back  of  these 
general  store-houses.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  smok 
ing  and  drinking  and  sometimes  brawling.  All  this, 
with  the  foreign  mixture,  which  was  sometimes  found 
to  admire  and  imitate,  tended  to  prevent  timid  women 
from  choosing  this  day,  as  a  good  one  for  shopping. 
In  summing  up  the  pleasures  of  this  resort,  it  would 
be  pretending  that  it  was  different  from  other  resorts 
of  its  kind,  to  omit  the  news  and  gossip;  for  men  as 


318  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

well  as  women  deal  in  both.  In  no  place  in  wide 
America  was  the  Turco-Russian  war  more  eagerly  dis 
cussed  than  at  Casa  de  Campo;  many  thought  ably, 
when  listening  to  Captain  Rudolph  von  Brugeman,  a 
Prussian  ex-officer,  and  old  Victoire,  an  Alsatian,  who 
fought  under  Napoleon.  True  they  spoke  in  some  kind 
of  a  Franco-German  patois,  intelligible  only  to  them 
selves,  but  their  gestures  were  plainly  superior,  con 
sequently,  the  whole  thing  must  have  been  fine.  There 
was  no  lack  of  home  magazines  and  newspapers  and 
a  few  foreign  journals — thus  it  followed,  that  every 
one  in  the  settlement  continued  to  be  well  posted  in 
home  and  foreign  affairs.  Now  that  the  Crimean  war 
had  become  a  memory,  there  was  more  time  for  looking 
after  the  news  and  gossip  of  the  settlement;  and  the 
daily  observers  and  reporters  were  busy  whenever 
they  could  get  anything  to  do. 

There  were  whisperings — zephyr-blown  it  is  true, 
and  alas — deemed  hardly  worth  the  heeding — which 
told  of  a  war  of  our  own.  The  prophet  "locust"  had 
been  found  with  the  letter  W  on  his  back.  There  was 
a  comet  seen.  But  it  was  not  until  later  in  the  year, 
that  the  air  began  to  turn  blue  and  to  bear  upon  its 
waves  a  faint  odour  of  gun-powder. 

With  less  stringent  need  for  his  presence  at  his 
Nueces  ranch,  now  that  the  summer  months  were  ap 
proaching,  Paul  was  more  frequently  at  home — and 
although  the  distance  was  greater  than  when  at  Little 
Kosta,  he  never  missed  one  of  the  little  euchre  parties 
which  Mrs.  Andrews  still  continued  to  give;  Both  Fe 
licia  and  Kaspar  going  with  him.  On  one  occasion  they 
were  invited  to  meet  Captain  Tabor,  an  old  sea-rover, 
an  Englishman — a  friend  and  visitor  of  the  Berengers. 
The  elder  Berenger  and  his  wife  were  also  visitors; 
giving  out  that  they  might  remain  throughout  the 
fever  season  in  New  Orleans.  Capt.  Tabor,  after  a 
late  dinner,  had  been  urged  to  remain  all  night ;  which 
at  the  mention  of  whist  he  was  quite  willing  to  do. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  319 

"Pretty  good,  Mr.  Bathurst,  we'll  beat  them  without 
so  much  as  looking  at  the  cards,"  he  said  after  winning 
the  first  game. 

"Don't  bet  on  it,"  said  Felix,  "Col.  Sanford  and  I 
always  win.  Haven't  we  always  beaten  you,  father?" 
Paul  bowed  as  he  shuffled  the  cards. 

"But  he's  got  a  partner  this  evening,  Miss;  there's 
something  in  that,  isn't  there?  Col.  Sanford  is  going 
to  be  w'ipped;  and  that  shortly — and  with  very  little 
effort." 

And  so  it  was.  Col.  Sanford's  usual  loud  self  ap 
plause  was  wholly  left  out;  and  about  the  old  sea-cap 
tain  was  a  matter-of-course  manner  which  told  that 
to  win  was  a  habit.  At  last  Col.  Sanford  remarked, 
as  gathering  together  the  cards,  he  placed  them  in  a 
neat  pack  on  the  table: 

"There  is  neither  fun  nor  profit  in  being  demolished 
like  this.  Let  us  talk." 

"Are  you  a  professional,  Captain  Tabor?"  asked 
Felix,  smiling. 

"No,  Miss,  but  from  my  first  game  to  my  last  I've 
nearly  always  won.  It's  the  same  with  all  other  games 
at  cards — w'ist  or  any  game — it's  all  the  same  to  me. 
William  Berenger  won't  play  with  me;  but  Archie 
holds  a  pretty  stiff  hand.  He's  got  a  good  head  on  him 
anyhow.  He's  got  the  head  of  an  out  and  out  busi 
ness  man.  And  you  don't  find  such  often  in  his  class. 
His  forbears  have  been  sea-going  men  for  hundreds 
of  years;  and  they've  had  grants — both  in  America 
and  the  islands — of  thousands  of  acres  of  land;  and 
also  titles  from  their  sovereigns.  It's  from  these  old 
salts  that  Archie  gets  his  brains." 

"You  have  known  the  family  for  a  long  time,  Cap 
tain  Tabor, — you  are  an  old  friend?"  asked  Mrs. 
Andrews. 

"I've  known  of  them,  ma'am.  I  knew  William's 
father  by  sight;  one  of  his  ships  was  the  first  I  ever 
'andled  as  skipper;  but  William  gave  me  my  first  pay- 


320  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

ing  job.  I  was  living  with  my  wife  over  her  little  shop 
in  Liverpool,  and  out  of  work  for  a  month,  when  one 
day  he  comes  to  me  and  says: 

"  'Tabor,  I  have  got  a  good  thing  for  you,  if  you'll 
have  it/  I  answered:  Til  take  anything  that  don't 
break  up  my  family.'  He  gives  me  the  post  of  ship 
ping-clerk  for  a  new  line  of  ships  he  was  part  owner 
in ;  and  from  that  time  my  fortune  was  made. 

"Well,  as  long  as  my  wife  lived,  I  stayed  on  in  Liver 
pool;  but  I  was  awfully  cut  up  at  her  death,  and  hav 
ing  no  relation  on  earth  that  I  knew  of,  it  made  for 
San  Francisco.  I  had  laid  up  a  lot  of  money  and  I  put 
it  to  work.  And  now  it's  in  my  power  to  do  for  them 
what  they  did  for  me.  William  has  had  bad  luck,  but 
he's  by  long  odds  not  a  poor  man  now. 

"But  it's  the  boy  I'd  like  to  help — and  he  could  also 
help  me.  Last  December  he  met  me  at  El  Paso,  by  way 
of  an  agreement  made  over  a  year  ago. 

"I'd  much  prefer  any  time  of  the  year  to  cross  the 
Mexican  half  of  that  overland  route.  So  he  met  me 
half-way;  and  I  thought  we  had  our  business  in  ship 
shape.  But  he  writes  that  all  his  plans  have  come  to  a 
deadlock;  and  here  he  sticks;  and  gives  hints  of  not 
being  able  to  leave  until  his  father's  visit  is  over?  By 
this  telling,  I  know  William  is  here.  And  I  round  Cape 
Horn,  to  get  to  see  them  all  together  again;  and  hav 
ing  the  same  feeling  I  had  when  coming,  I  go  home  the 
same  way." 

"You  won't  go  overland?" 

"Not  by  a  jugfull  of  Teneriffe — unless  Archie  was 
along  with  his  gang.  The  Comanches  wouldn't  get 
much  hair  with  my  scalp,  but  I'm  not  inclined  to  let 
'em  cut  it." 

"The  truth  is,  Archie's  wife  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
family  party  they  are  having  at  present.  He  as  good 
as  told  me  and  he's  the  unmanageable  one.  She  would 
make  some  man  happy  I  have  no  doubt;  but  she's  a 
drag  on  the  one  she's  got  hold  of.  She  makes  his  lifo 
a  hell  on  earth.  She's  a  notion  against  his  being  in 


]'. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  321 

trade;  and  she's  got  another  against  his  spending  her 
money — and  another  that  every  woman  that  looks  ac 
him,  wants  to  run  off  with  him;  and  she  insults  him 
every  hour  in  the  day — if  she  gets  the  opportunity. 
He  says  to  me  only  yesterday :  'Captain,  says  he, ' — if 
I  were  to  start  overland  to-morrow,  she  would  pack  up 
the  children  and  follow  me.' 

'"It's  devlish!'  says  I. 

"  'It  is,'  says  he.  'But  don't  give  me  up,  Captain ; 
I've  got  the  whip-hand  and  I'll  hold  it  until  they  all  go 
home.'  When  that  comes  about,  Mrs.  Berenger  will 
be  no  further  away  than  she  is  now." 

"Then  it  is  true — they  have  separated.  I  am  very 
sorry,"  said  Paul. 

"William's  beginning  to  understand,  and  that  pays 
me  for  coming.  I  thought  from  what  he  said  at  El 
Paso  last  year,  that  they'd  parted  for  good.  He  told 
me  he  thought  she'd  never  come  back ;  as  she'd  written 
that  she'd  get  a  divorce." 

"Do  you  hear,  Felix?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Berenger  have 
separated.  I  can  think  of  nothing  worse."  Felicia 
had  moved  away,  having  apparently  paid  no  attention. 
But  she  had  heard,  and  now  knew  what  Archie  had 
tried  to  explain. 

A  week  or  ten  days  after  New  Year,  he  had  sent 
through  the  mail  a  carefully  worded  and  unsigned 
note  requesting  an  interview  for  this  purpose.  But 
Felix  did  not  reply,  nor  had  she  spoken  to  him  since 
the  ball  at  New  Year's  eve.  She  had  seen  him  passing 
at  times,  and  once  when  she  had  come  to  do  some  shop 
ping  at  Casa  de  Campo,  he  was  about  to  mount  his 
horse  when  he  saw  her  driving  up  the  road. 

He  stopped  and  waited,  apparently  thinking  she 
would  speak  to  him  or  that  she  would  bow  or  in  some 
way  recognize  him — she  had  passed  on  without  look 
ing  in  his  direction.  When  she  came  out  he  was  still 
there — but  sitting  and  writing  with  a  pencil  on  what 

seemed  a  memorandum  book;  fearing  that  he  was  in- 
11 


322  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

diting  a  note  to  herself,  she  returned,  and  asking-  one 
of  the  clerks  to  help  with  her  parcels  and  accompanied 
by  this  young  man  she  again  entering  her  carriage, 
saw  him  riding  away.  Perhaps  I  am  wrong,  she 
thought,  sadly.  It  might  have  been  better  to  speak. 
But  if  he  spoke  of  love  and  matrimony,  as  was  most 
likely,  then  her  present  course  was  in  every  way  the 
best.  Afterwards  she  remembered  with  pain  that  he 
had  a  worn  and  harassed  appearance;  that  he  seemed 
unhappy  and  careless  in  dress,  and  as  usual  when  her 
reflections  took  this  form,  the  end  was  a  fit  of  despon 
dency,  very  nearly  approaching  despair,  from  which 
it  took  days  to  recover.  Then  the  well-balanced  mind 
again  took  its  sway,  growing  stronger  by  its  successive 
victories  over  the  impulses  of  a  sensitive  and  loving 
heart. 

The  information  given  by  Captain  Tabor  was  re 
liable — and  to  his  way  of  thinking  there  seemed  no  ob 
jection  to  giving  it  publicity ;  heretofore  there  had  been 
only  hints  of  trouble  lying  beneath  the  surface,  the  re 
serve  of  both  parties  most  concerned,  preventing  any 
probing  beneath  it,  that  might  prove  the  truth  or  false 
hoods  of  these  reports.  Of  late,  Felicia  had  been  aware 
of  another  class  of  rumors  telling  of  flirtations  with 
women,  in  whose  company,  a  respectable  man  would 
hate  to  be  found — some  indeed,  with  whom,  no  man  of 
even  common  decency  would  care  to  be  seen  in  the 
light  of  day.  To  these  she  gave  neither  heed  nor 
credence.  It  was  near  the  end  of  July  and  three  months 
since  her  introduction  to  Captain  Tabor  at  Mrs.  An 
drews'  whist  party;  a  few  days  after  which,  it  was 
known  that  Mrs.  Berenger  had  left  with  her  aunt,  the 
elder  Mrs.  Berenger,  for  the  latter's  home  in  New 
Orleans.  Her  uncle,  Mr.  Wellborn,  had  long  since  re 
turned  to  Canada.  In  a  couple  of  days  the  California 
expedition  started  overland,  Captain  Tabor  joining 
them  on  his  way  back  to  his  home  in  San  Francisco. 
William  Berenger  remained  in  Texas  at  his  son's  resi 
dence  until  he  could  dispose  of  some  business  tran- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  323 

sactions  which  would  yield  him  great  profits.  The 
money  thus  gained,  would  be  placed  in  the  hands  of 
his  son;  whom  he  thought  was  no  longer  in  need  of 
leading  strings. 

He  now  bitterly  regretted  the  part  he  had  taken  in 
forcing  this  unhappy  marriage.  Living  in  the  house 
for  weeks,  he  could  not  but  see  the  utter  impossibility 
of  reconciliation.  Indeed  he  did  not  now  wish  it;  he 
even  advised  his  daughter-in-law  to  apply  for  a  divorce. 
This  was  done  in  a  conversation  held  on  the  morning  of 
her  departure.  The  reply  was  a  reiterated  resolve 
never  to  agree  to  this.  I  can  at  least  prevent  him  from 
marrying  again.  She  had  apparently  ceased  to  connect 
Miss  Bathurst  with  the  case  except  perhaps  in  a  collec 
tive  way.  The  Bathursts,  since  their  removal  from 
Little  Kosta,  were  almost  out  of  hearing  in  the  lower 
neighborhood.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  was  some  time 
before  Felix  was  informed  that  nobody  knew  exactly 
how  it  was  with  the  Berengers — Warren,  of  course, 
knew,  but  it  was  futile  to  attempt  to  probe  him.  Ellis, 
a  neighbor  saw  the  two  Mrs.  Berengers,  nurse  and 
children,  get  in  the  coach  when  it  passed  their  gate. 
It  passed  the  Berenger  gate  on  its  downward  course 
every  morning.  He  said  also  that  Berenger  shook 
hands  all  round — kissing  his  little  boys.  He  was  sure 
he  saw  Mrs.  Berenger  with  a  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
as  the  coach  was  driven  away. 

The  Berengers  are  going  to  close  out  here,  Felicia,  I 
saw  the  father  to-day  and  he  gave  out  that  they  would 
wind  up  and  leave  in  October.  It  will  be  about  the  time 
of  our  breaking  up.  Who  knows  but  that  we  may  go 
in  the  same  ship.  His  son  will  be  at  home  in  a 
few  days  and  will  be  coming  and  going  until  their 
final  departure. 

If  I  meet  him,  I  will  at  least  bow,  thought  Felix,  her 
heart  beating  unbearably  at  the  possibility  of  their 
never  meeting  again  face  to  face.  I  will  at  least  re 
move  the  feeling  of  being  unjust.  When  thanking  Mon 
roe  for  his  defense  of  her  at  Casa  de  Campo,  she  found 


324  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


that  Berenger  had  told  him  of  what  had  been  said  on 
New  Year's  eve,  and  that  it  was  to  keep  him  from  fol 
lowing  her  that  night,  that  Monroe  came  himself.  Mon 
roe  also  told  her  that  she  had  been  too  severe  in  her 
judgment  of  one  whose  ideas  of  morality  were  formed 
after  European  models,  and  who  looked  upon  such  rules 
of  conduct  as  seemed  to  her  the  only  correct  ones,  as 
the  outgrowth  of  a  Puritanism  but  little  less  than 
fanatical.  "Not  that  he  is  or  ever  was  a  profligate; 
the  term  laxist  would  perhaps  better  describe  him." 

"I  am  aware,"  replied  Felicia,  turning  very  red,  "that 
my  opportunities  for  acquiring  impressions  of  right  and 
wrong  have  been  limited,  being  confined  to  what  might 
be  learned  in  my  home,  my  convent,  and  that  part  of 
Texas  comprised  in  Guadalupe,  Bexar  and  Gonzales 
counties.  You  see  my  sphere  is  narrow,  but  I  believe 
with  all  the  advantages  of  a  foreign  training,  I  would 
still  have  been  an  advocate  of  morality  and  religion." 

"I  hardly  took  it  to  be  so  bad  as  your  words  imply, 
and  I'm  not  saying  Berenger  was  right,  but  only  that 
he  thought  himself  not  wrong.  And  although  I  do  not 
approve  of  the  laxity  found  in  older  civilizations  than 
ours,  I  do  think  their  men  are  entitled  to  more  forbear 
ance  than  any  man  living  here  from  birth,  could  pos 
sibly  be.  Environment  being  responsible  for  much 
that  may  call  for  either  praise  or  blame.  He  was  very 
sorry,  Miss  Bathurst." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,  Mr.  Monroe,  he  told  my  father  so, 
but  offered  no  explanation,  neither  did  he  give  the 
slightest  hint  of  what  he  had  said — neither  did  I,  when 
father  mentioned  it  to  me.  Mr.  Berenger  told  my 
father  it  was  a  joke — which  of  course  put  a  different 
face  upon  the  whole  interview.  I  tried  to  think  whether 
for  better  or  worse,  I  decided  for  worse."  Both  Felicia 
and  Monroe  laughed  at  this. 

"I  am  glad  you  did  not  mention  it  to  your  father.  I 
may  as  well  say  that  I  am  fully  posted,  though  some 
what  against  my  will — in  the  matrimonial  strife  now 
going  on  between  the  Berengers ;  I  like  them  both — but 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  325 

the  man,  contrary  to  the  usual  run  of  things  in  such 
cases  is  the  less  to  blame.  He  is  an  all  round  good 
fellow — any  pretty  woman  could  get  along  with  him — 
the  woman  he  loved  could  rule  him.  Mrs.  Berenger 
makes  the  mistake  common  to  the  man  or  woman  who 
has  been  spoiled  in  childhood  by  over-indulgence — she 
will  not  try.  Who  pleases  her  must  'Salute  the  Queen !' 
She  could  be  fascinating  if  she  would;  but  she  would 
look  upon  such  efforts  to  please  as  condescension;  but 
in  this  case  all  the  opportunity  has  gone  by  when  any 
thing  she  might  do  would  count  for  anything : — she  has 
lost  the  man; — just  as  the  discovery  of  his  true  worth 
had  come  home  to  her  family — and  I  might  say — to  his 
own — his  father  at  least — they  have  come  to  know  that 
they  can  no  longer  control  him.  He  told  me  his  side  of 
his  New  Year's  scrape  as  he  called  it,  and  after  making 
him  promise  that  he  would  hold  his  tongue  about  it  for 
his  own  and  everybody  else's  sake,  I  agreed  to  come 
up  here  and  put  him  right  with  you  as  far  as  could  be 
done.  Have  I  done  any  good?" 

"I  believe  you  have,  Mr.  Monroe,  but  I'm  sorry  he 
told  you.  I  hope  he  made  no  other  confidant.  I  can't 
help  thinking  Mr.  Berenger  is  too  careless." 

"I  know  he  is,"  said  Monroe.  "Your  treatment  at 
the  New  Year's  ball,  I  believe  could  be  traced  to  this 
same  carelessness  and  imprudence.  I  never  saw  any 
one  so  reckless  of  the  opinion  of  others;  meaning  no 
harm  he  plunges  along  and  goes  and  does  whatever  is 
prompted  by  the  impulse  of  the  moment." 

"My  treatment  at  Cromptons?  Then  you  noticed 
that?"  said  Felix,  flushing  to  the  temples  at  the  pain 
ful  memory.  "I  half-way  thought  you  did.  I  will  take 
back  what  I  said  just  now.  My  dear  friend,  I  begin 
to  understand  something  of  what  I  owe  you.  I'm  glad 
you  know  all  about  it." 

"I  know  more  about  it  than  one  whose  mind  is  so 
thoroughly  well  principled  as  yours  would  care  to 
know,"  answered  Monroe — pulling  himself  up  by  his 
cane. 


326  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  STORM. 

Long  after  he  had  gone,  Felicia  sat  reflecting  upon 
what  Monroe  had  said  of  Berenger ;  she  had  been  much 
less  disturbed  by  the  statement  concerning  the  latter's 
lack  of  prudence,  than  at  the  allusion  to  his  foreign 
birth  and  training. 

"Laxist.  I  will  see  just  what  that  means,"  she  said 
to  herself,  rising  to  consult  a  dictionary.  ''One  hold 
ing  loose  notions  concerning  the  meaning  and  applica 
tion  of  the  moral  law."  She  had  never  found  it  possible 
to  believe  him  to  be  a  libertine  or  profligate,  either  in 
his  earlier  youth  or  of  late  as  had  been  hinted.  This  was 
almost  as  bad.  If  so  it  must  be  owing  wholly  to  his 
foreign  training.  She  fell  to  wondering  if  she  could 
love  him  if  she  knew  positively  that  it  was  true.  She 
did  not  know.  Would  it  be  wrong  to  love  him  in  that 
case?  She  was  afraid  she  would  not  be  any  better  able 
to  help  it.  She  had  sometimes  felt  when  hearing  of 
his  troubles  that  she  could  even  love  the  woman  who 
could  make  him  happy.  Did  she  really  love  him  her 
self  in  the  best  and  truest  meaning  of  the  word.  As 
well  might  she  ask  herself  if  she  loved  her  Maker — 
her  God — her  cherished  father,  or  the  precious  memory 
of  her  darling  mother.  Had  she  a  right  to  do  this  ?  If 
not,  she  had  not  yet  the  power  to  control  it.  She  would 
like  to  see  him,  but  this  much  she  would  not  do : — she 
would  not  go  out  of  the  way  to  seek  or  to  meet  him. 
But  if  she  waited  for  an  accidental  meeting,  she  might 
never  see  him  again.  Oh,  never  again  in  this  world! 
For  some  minutes  she  sat  struggling  with  the  almost 
insupportable  agony  brought  on  by  the  thought. 

Once  more  regaining  composure,  she  reverted  again 
to  her  conversation  with  Monroe;  wondering  if  Ber- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  327 

enger  had  ever  told  him  that  he  was  joking  when  ut 
tering  the  words  which  had  caused  their  estrangement. 
She  had  not  thought  of  the  matter  in  that  sense,  until 
her  father  in  his  ignorance  of  the  true  nature  of  the 
offense,  had  brought  from  the  offender  what  might  be 
taken  either  for  an  olive  branch  or  an  apology. 

"He  was  afraid  Miss  Bathurst  was  offended — and 
perhaps  thought  him  impertinent;  but  he  was  joking — 
was  very  sorry,  and  hoped  she  would  forgive  him." 
This  delivered — had  an  effect  directly  opposite  to  the 
one  desired.  If  a  joke,  her  humiliation  was  complete 
— there  was  no  more  to  be  said ;  and  if  so,  it  was  a  cruel 
joke.  But  was  it?  He  had  looked  sincere ;  he  had  even 
shown  anger.  But  she  would  not  puzzle  her  brain 
about  any  hidden  meaning  that  may  have  existed;  to 
her  way  of  thinking  it  should  have  cured  her  of  her 
partiality  for  the  culprit.  Yet  such  was  not  the  case. 

It  was  now  in  the  middle  of  the  month  of  August, 
1860.  As  is  not  often  the  case  at  this  season,  there 
had  been  for  the  past  two  or  three  days  a  cool  north- 
wind  blowing;  putting  aside  for  a  time  all  hopes  of  a 
much  needed  rain.  This  had  suddenly  changed,  and 
the  cloudy  morning  gave  promise  of  stormy  weather 
later  in  the  day.  Already  was  the  sultry  heat  oppres 
sive.  Candace  still  carried  on  her  glove  making;  but 
only  when  called  on  by  Mrs.  Bernstein  to  fill  a  large 
order.  She  had  that  morning  been  wondering  aloud 
how  she  would  get  a  box  of  finished  gloves  to  its  des 
tination. 

"What  must  I  do  about  these  gloves,  Miss  Felicia?" 

"I  will  take  them,  Candace,  it  is  only  a  short  dis 
tance." 

"But,  Miss  Felicia,  there  is  one  pair  to  be  delivered 
at  the  Repplier  Ranche ;  and  that  is  on  the  San  Antonio 
road  seven  miles  from  here." 

"I  won't  mind  that,  it  will  give  me  a  chance  to  make 
the  Repplier's  a  nice  visit.  I  will  stay  to  luncheon  and 
throughout  the  hot  hours  of  the  afternoon  and  be  at 
home  at  tea-time." 


328  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Half  an  hour  later,  armed  with  her  merchandise,  she 
set  out  on  horse  back,  followed  by  the  admiring  gaze 
of  Candace  and  the  little  group  gathered  at  the  gate. 
Felix  delivered  the  box  at  Mrs.  Bernstein's  and  riding 
the  remaining  three  miles,  reached  Repplier's.  She 
found  the  family  and  their  Mexican  servants  employed 
in  various  preparations  for  the  coming  festival  which 
was  to  commence  that  evening  and  continue  three  days. 

"I  am  doubly  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Bathurst,  first 
for  your  own  sake,  and  next  for  mine.  I  want  your 
opinion  of  these  costumes  I  am  trying  to  finish;  the 
Mexicans  are  so  busy  with  their  own,  I  can  hope  for  no 
assistance  from  that  source." 

A  Mexican  Vaquero  ran  forward  to  take  her  horse. 

No  sooner  had  Felix  dismounted,  than  Max,  jerking 
his  bridle  from  the  hand  of  the  man,  bounded  off  in 
the  direction  of  home.  After  a  little  delay  in  catching 
and  saddling  a  mustang,  the  Mexican  after  hunting  an 
hour  or  more,  came  back  without  even  catching  sight  of 
the  runaway. 

"What  will  I  do  now,  Mrs.  Repplier?  You  will  be 
going  away  in  the  afternoon.  I  must  find  some  way 
to  go  home  before  that  time — couldn't  the  man  go  back 
and  look  again?"  queried  Felix,  anxiously. 

"He  looks  so  surly  I  hate  to  ask  him,"  was  the  an 
swer.  "As  this  is  a  Mexican  fiesta,  they  count  the 
time  of  its  celebration  as  their  own,  and  they  are 
all  busy  with  their  clothes.  But  do  not  feel  worried ; — 
When  Mr.  Repplier  comes  he  will  find  a  way  for  you  to 
go  home.  Come  and  show  me  how  to  put  on  this  gold 
lace." 

After  luncheon,  Felix  was  standing  on  the  upper 
porch  with  the  Repplier  children  watching  the  dis 
tant  gathering  clouds,  which,  with  the  great  heat  of 
the  sultry  atmosphere  betokened  a  storm.  She  began 
to  feel  a  great  anxiety  anent  the  probable  chances  of 
reaching  home  before  night,  although  it  was  not  yet 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  family  had  begun 
to  dress  for  the  'baile.'  Their  costumes  had  been  care- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  329 

fully  selected,  for  this  festival  would  be  the  last  of  its 
kind  for  a  year,  and  was  intended  to  surpass  all  pre 
vious  entertainments.  There  would  be  a  new  band  of 
Mexicans  from  San  Antonio  and  another  from  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  also  some  distinguished  guests  from  the 
City  of  Mexico.  The  Mexicans  were  praying  for  good 
weather — they  were  all  going ;  this  was  the  second  day. 
An  hour  passed,  Mr.  Repplier  had  not  returned.  The 
sun,  which  had  for  the  past  two  hours  been  putting 
forth  its  rays  of  torrid  heat,  now  began  to  be  obscured 
by  strongly  moving  clouds,  whose  increasing  density 
seemed  to  presage  a  nearer  approach  of  the  storm,  but 
whose  shadows  served  to  mitigate  the  burning  heat. 
Felix  had  begun  to  deliberate  upon  the  choice  of  being 
left  alone  upon  this  great  ranche  or  the  almost  equally 
unpleasant  alternative  of  gathering  up  the  skirt  of  her 
riding-habit  and  walking  the  distance  of  seven  miles. 
Her  horse,  she  reckoned  was  sure  to  go  directly  home. 
That  some  of  the  family  would  see  him,  would  be  most 
likely,  but  would  it  be  known  to  any  of  them  where 
she  really  was  ? — or  whether  or  not,  she  may  have  been 
thrown  and  hurt?  This  thought  compelled  her  de 
cision.  She  would  start  home,  and  trust  to  the  chances 
of  being  taken  up  by  some  one,  going  in  the  same  direc 
tion.  She  immediately  went  to  Mrs.  Repplier's  room, 
and  bade  her  good  bye, — telling  of  her  intention. 

"But,  'Felix,  you  will  be  so  warm  and  you  will  be, 
also,  very  tired : — besides  it  might  make  you  ill." 

"Nothing  ever  makes  me  ill,"  was  the  reply,  as  with 
a  hurried  farewell  to  the  grandmother  and  the  child 
ren,  she  passed  down  the  stairs.  When  on  the  landing, 
she  stopped.  There  was  a  sound  of  someone  running. 
Mr.  Replier  had  at  last  returned.  She  heard  him  call 
out  loudly : — 

"Halt  la!     Hello— Berenger— !" 

To  avoid  being  seen,  she  sat  down  on  the  steps  be 
hind  the  railing.  Berenger  had  driven  up  and  stopped 
at  the  gate.  To  her  consternation,  she  heard  Repplier 
say :— 


330  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"You're  in  the  nick  of  time.  Miss  Bathurst  came 
here  on  horseback  this  morning,  and  her  nag  broke  his 
hitching  strap  and  made  for  home  by  way  of  the 
woods,  running  like  a  quarter-horse;  and  by  the  time 
my  vaquero  got  mounted  to  follow  him,  'it  wan't  no 
use.'  You  can  take  Miss  Felix  up, — I'll  let  her  know," 
said  he,  starting  toward  the  house. 

"Stop,  Repplier!— " 

The  rest  of  the  reply  was  given  in  tones  so  low  as 
to  make  the  words  inaudible,  but  which  sounded  like 
a  demur  or  protest. 

"But  Mrs.  Gaultier  need  not  move,"  came  in  Rep- 
plier's  loud  voice.  "It  would  be  better  for  Miss  Felix 
to  hang  on  behind,  than  to  try  to  walk  all  that  distance 
alone.  It's  seven  long  miles,  if  it's  a  foot!" 

"Come,  Berenger,  turn  back  the  seat  of  the  cart," 
he  insisted. 

"But  I  have  so  many  parcels  under  there,"  com 
plained  Mrs.  Gaultier  in  petulant  tones. 

"Miss  Bathurst  will  sit  on  your  parcels — I  will  run 
up  and  tell  her  to  come,"  said  Repplier,  impudently; 
and  without  more  ado,  he  ran  first  to  his  mother's 
room. 

"Where's  Miss  Bathurst,  mother?  I've  found  a  way 
for  her  to  ride  home — she's  not  welcome,  but  that'.? 
nothing.  It's  easy  to  see  how  the  land  lies — but — 
Hello!" 

He  saw  Felix  coming  down  the  steps,  and  hastening 
towards  her,  he  exclaimed : — 

"Oh,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  was  looking  for  you;  here's 
a  good  chance  for  you  to  ride  home.  Berenger  is  wait 
ing  out  there  in  his  dog-cart." 

"I  prefer  to  walk.  Tell  him  to  go  on,"  she  answered, 
with  pale  face  and  curling  lip  of  scorn.  "Good-bye, 
Mrs.  Repplier." 

"My  dear,  you  had  better  go  with  Mr.  Berenger,  it 
is  safer ;  there  are  some  lonely  places  on  this  road." 

"Yes,  Miss  Bathurst,  you'd  be  at  home  in  an  hour 
behind  that  team."  They  were  walking  towards  the 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  331 

gate;  passing  through  it,  Repplier  ran  lightly  to  the 
back  of  the  cart,  and  Felix  nodding  carelessly  to  Beren- 
ger  and  his  companion,  said  coolly,  "Mr.  Repplier  is 
very  kind  to  be  so  solicitous  about  me,  but  I  see  you  are 
too  much  crowded  to  take  me  in."  Walking  on,  not 
having  halted  while  speaking — Mrs.  Gaultier  called 
after  her : — 

"Yes,  very  much  crowded,  and  besides,  pressed  for 
time;  as  Mr.  Berenger  has  promised  to  take  me  and 
all  these  packages  to  the  festival  by  six  o'clock.  We 
must  be  on  the  ground  before  the  sun  goes  down.  Why, 
Mr.  Repplier,  whatever  are  you  doing?" 

"I've  made  room  for  Miss  Bathurst.  Ho! — Miss 
Bathurst!"  he  called.  But  Felix,  already  far  down  the 
road,  did  not  look  back. 

"Well ! — I'll  be  damned !"  said  the  ranger,  shooting 
a  fiery  glance  at  Berenger.  "You  didn't  even  offer  to 
take  her  part  of  the  way." 

The  couple  soon  drove  by  Felicia,  the  iron  grays  in 
a  swinging  trot — their  best  gait.  Mrs.  Gaultier  turned 
her  pretty  head  and  bowed  slightly,  with  a  little  air 
of  triumph  expressive  of  the  frankly  open  and  derisive 
vaunting  peculiar  to  vulgar  natures.  Berenger,  looking 
straight  before  him,  passed  without  notice.  When  they 
had  disappeared  from  her  sight,  Felix  walked  more 
slowly — her  heart  throbbing  painfully.  The  scene  so 
abruptly  forced  upon  her  had  the  effect  of  an  unpro 
voked  insult.  The  heat  of  the  blazing  sun  made  her 
reel  and  stumble.  She  was  afraid  she  would  fall.  At 
last  she  stopped  under  a  small  hackberry  tree.  With 
characteristic  introspection  she  began  to  take  herself 
to  task,  sitting  down  on  the  ground  she  took  off  her  hat 
and  fanning  herself  tried  to  think.  Like  a  hurt  child 
her  first  thought  was  of  her  mother — throwing  aside 
her  hat,  and  with  a  wild  motion  spreading  forth  her 
arms,  she  clasped  them  again  to  her  bosom  as  if  embrac 
ing  an  invisible  presence;  then  bowing  her  head  upon 
her  knees  sobbed  out  the  words : — 


332  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"0,  Mother!  Darling  mother!  It's  no  use,  Uncle 
Darius,  I've  got  to  cry!" 

Soon  remembering  the  danger  of  being  observed, 
but  still  with  tears  unchecked,  she  arose  to  her  feet 
and  moved  on.  Their  dear  familiar  names — the  mere 
memory  of  them  brought  back  as  it  were,  the  home  of 
her  childhood — the  living  presence  of  those  under 
whose  fostering  care  and  stern  probity  she  had  grown 
to  be  what  she  was;  giving  back  to  her  the  fortitude 
she  had  lost ;  and  her  native  pride  coming  again  to  the 
fore,  aided  her  effort  at  self-control. 

She  was  telling  herself  that  she  ought  to  be  thank 
ful  to  know  what  otherwise  she  never  would  have  be 
lieved.  But  she  was  not  thankful.  Was  she  jealous  of 
Mrs.  Gaultier?  Had  she  fallen  so  low  as  to  place  her 
self  unconsciously  on  a  level  with  a  person  of  that 
class?  It  could  not  be!  But  what  is  this!  What  is 
it,  dear  God — what  is  it  that  so  wounds  my  heart!  My 
reason  tells  me  to  be  both  glad  and  grateful ;  but  I  am 
not.  When  I  am  at  home  I  will  be  better.  I  will  be 
able  to  think.  Had  she  been  there,  she  would,  as  only 
once  in  her  life  before,  have  yielded  to  bitter  grief, 
sobbing  helplessly  for  hours.  But  this  was  a  highway, 
and  she  hurried  on,  speaking  aloud  at  times  without 
being  aware  of  the  strangeness  of  it,  until  two  Mex 
icans  rode  by,  and  gazing  curiously  into  her  face,  asked 
kindly,  if  they  might  help  her.  "There  was  a  storm 
coming  up — might  they  not  in  some  way  assist  her?" 
She  thanked  them  politely,  saying  that  she  lived  in 
the  neighborhood  and  would  soon  reach  home.  They 
passed  on  and  Felicia,  thinking,  but  no  longer  aloud, 
was  approaching  the  Roe  place;  Mrs.  Gaultier  lived 
there  with  her  brother.  The  road  lay  directly  in  front 
of  their  gate.  It  was  possible  that  Berenger  and  the 
woman  would  not  yet  have  left  for  the  fiesta,  and  if  not 
she  would  be  compelled  to  face  them  again.  She  men 
tally  resolved  to  go  back  of  the  place ;  she  would  avoid 
Berenger  and  was  especially  unwillingly  to  meet  an 
other  mocking  glance  from  the  widow;  the  kind  of  a 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  333 

glance  that  might  pass  for  all  it  was  worth  between 
equals,  but  its  import  in  the  present  instance  was  humil 
iating  to  the  self-esteem  of  any  virtuous  woman. 

Thinking  along  such  lines,  Felix  began  a  detour 
through  the  woods  back  of  a  little  calf  pasture;  en 
countering  burrs,  thorns  and  other  impediments. 

She  had  gone  but  a  little  way  when  she  saw  the  heads 
of  the  iron-grays  coming  back.  A  turn  in  the  road 
would  bring  them  in  front  of  her.  Could  she  escape 
unseen?  She  hastily  stepped  behind  some  bushes.  She 
could  see  that  Berenger  was  alone ;  driving  slowly  and 
looking  from  right  to  left. 

It  never  occurred  to  her  to  question  the  cause  of 
his  return;  he  had  lost  or  left  something  behind  and 
was  going  after  it.  He  would  not  be  at  Roe's,  and 
perhaps  his  companion  might  not  be  visible.  She  had 
torn  her  habit  and  the  catclaw  briars  made  her  progress 
difficult;  the  thicket  was  growing  more  dense  with 
every  step. 

A  thorn  took  off  her  veil;  she  replaced  it,  again 
going  towards  the  road.  She  would  not  go  around  the 
little  pasture,  but  would  stay  unseen  until  he  had 
passed.  She  waited.  Yes,  she  would  now  go  into  the 
road  and  had  nearly  reached  it,  when  he,  upon  a  slight 
elevation  which  took  in  a  view  of  Repplier's  house, 
arose — gave  a  sweeping,  searching  look  in  every  direc 
tion,  and  saw  her.  Instantly  turning  his  horses'  heads, 
he  soon  reined  up  in  front  of  her. 

"Miss  Bathurst,  I  have  come  back  to  take  you  home." 
He  had  stepped  lightly  to  the  ground,  still  holding  the 
lines.  Standing  in  the  only  opening  which  led  from 
the  adjoining  wood  through  the  low  thorny  under 
growth  which  bordered  the  highway,  her  further  pro 
gress  was  intercepted  by  the  team..  She  had  shaded 
her  eyes  with  her  hat-brim  in  a  way  to  hide  all  but  the 
lower  part  of  her  face,  and  quietly  waited — making  no 
attempt  to  answer. 

"Will  vou  come?" 


334  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"No,  I  will  not  go  with  you.    I  would  rather  walk." 

"You  don't  mean  that.  Come!  Give  me  your  hand 
and  let  me  help  you  up."  She  moved ;  half-turning  her 
back,  but  not  speaking.  "Don't  be  obstinate.  A  storm 
is  gathering — Let  me  take  you  home  before  it  breaks." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  a  wetting,  and — I  mean  what  I 
say."  She  spoke  gently — the  momentary  anger  dying 
out  of  her  face  and  voice.  He  sprang  again  into  his 
dog-cart  and  touching  his  horses  lightly  with  his  whip 
drove  forward  down  the  way  to  some  hackberry  trees ; 
tied  them  and  came  back  to  meet  her.  She  had  crossed 
the  road  to  a  little  foot-path  which  ran  parallel  with 
it  on  the  other  side,  and  was  following  it,  thereby 
avoiding  the  deep  sand. 

"Now,  Felix,  it's  no  use  beating  about  the  bush.  You 
must  come  with  me.  There's  going  to  be  a  storm, 
or  at  least  a  heavy  rain,  and  you  must  let  me 
take  you  across  the  river  while  it  may  be  fordable." 
When  they  had  reached  the  cart  and  she  seemed  about 
to  go  past,  having  given  no  response  to  his  last  words 
— he  said  severely  and  with  much  heat : — 

"What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Bathurst?  Do  you  really 
intend  to  try  to  walk  home  alone!"  and  catching  her 
hand  in  both  his,  he  said,  "Now  come  at  once,  or  I 
will  have  to  leave  my  horses  here  and  walk  along  with 
you." 

How  angry  he  was!  And — tanned  by  much  expos 
ure  to  the  sun,  and  wearing  the  picturesque  dress  of  a 
cowboy — how  handsome!  With  back  of  it  all,  the 
force  of  a  strong  man's  will ;  a  force  it  would  be  folly 
to  resist.  He  helped  'Felix  to  the  offered  seat,  not 
heeding  her  attempt  to  withdraw  her  hand. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid;  I  will  go  with  you;  al 
though  you  were  opposed  to  it  a  few  minutes  ago,  and 
I  believe  there  are  several  other  reasons  why  I  should 
not." 

"And  I  believe  there  is  every  reason  why  I  should 
be  very  angry  with  you.  It  was  not  like  I  did  not  want 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  335 

you  to  come  with  me;  you  rushed  by  so  quickly,  I  had 
no  time  to  think;  and  you  showed  such  scorn,  that — 
that  I  haven't  got  over  it  yet." 

"Rushed — ?  I — ?  But  don't  explain,  Mr.  Berenger; 
I  was  on  the  stairway,  not  far  off,  and  heard  the  initial 
objection  and  all  that  followed.  I  heard  you  refuse  to 
give  me  a  seat."  For  some  time  there  was  silence. 
They  were  moving  slowly,  the  horses  in  a  walk.  Ber 
enger  looked  at  the  pale  averted  face — the  grief  swol 
len,  down-cast  eyes,  with  aching  heart.  She  had  seem 
ed  ashamed,  and  from  the  first,  had  not  looked  at  him. 
A  thought  came  to  him.  A  thought  of  her  exquisite 
nicety,  her  innate  modesty  and  almost  excessive  pride 
of  character. 

"You  heard  that?  Did  it  hurt  you,  Felix?"  A  slight 
compression  of  the  quivering  lips,  but  there  was  no 
reply. 

"I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  return  for  you  before 
you  came  out.  In  fact  as  soon  as  Repplier  told  me  you 
were  in  the  house.  I  had  reasons  for  not  offering  you 
a  seat, — but  differing  from  those  you  have  conject 
ured.  When  I  came  down  from  San  Antonio  this  morn 
ing,  i  found  my  team  waiting  at  the  stage  stand  as 
usual.  Mrs.  Gaultier  was  there  expecting  her  brother. 
She  asked  me  to  take  her  and  some  parcels  to  the  fes 
tival; — fearing  her  brother  would  not  be  on  time.  It 
would  detain  me  only  an  hour  or  two,  and  my  horses 
were  fresh.  I  could  not  refuse." 

"Miss  Bathurst, — I  could  not  offer  you  a  seat,  until 
I  had  unloaded  my  cart.  I  was  half-way  stunned, 
when  Repplier  first  told  me  you  were  there,  and  what 
was  wanted ;  and  the  next  thought  was,  that  you  would 
refuse  to  come  with  me;  but  I  knew  in  a  flash,  that 
I  would  take  you  home." 

Again  he  paused  and  looked  at  her  searchingly, — 
then  continued: — 

"I  would  not  tell  you  just  how  much,  at  times,  I 
have  been  vexed  with  you.  I  would  not  be  so  cruel  to  a 
dog,  that  loved  me,  as  you  have  been  to  me  in  the  last 


336  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

half  year.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  find  out  how 
you  looked  at  it,  and  what  it  was  you  objected  to; — 
but  when  at  last  I  got  to  it, — I  respected  the  course 
you  took, — although  it  did  not  seem  any  wiser  than 
the  one  I  would  have  had  you  take.  That  was  at  first ; 
and  it  was  sometime  after,  before  I  realized  how  much 
you  were  offended.  You  turned  from  me,  whenever  I 
tried  to  speak  to  you;  and  I  was  afraid  to  write,  for 
that  would  compromise  you." 

"All  I  hoped  for  after  the  way  things  turned  out 
that  night,  was  to  get  back,  the  good  will  and  compan 
ionship  of  my  dear  little  friend." 

Again  he  looked  over  the  pathetic  figure  of  the  now 
sobbing  girl.  The  shabby  hat  and  habit,  the  general 
outward  appearance, — too  plainly  confirming  the  re 
ports  of  her  father's  financial  troubles,  and  bringing 
to  mind  what  he  had  been  told  of  her  brave  efforts  to 
help  him.  Wishing  in  some  way  to  soothe  her,  he 
said : — 

"I  apologized  to  your  father,  and  told  him,  I  was 
only  joking  and  did  not  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings. 
Did  he  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  and — ,"  waiting  a  little  to  regain  command  of 
her  voice.  "He  told  me  you  said  you  were  joking,  and 
he  also  said,  that  an  apology  covered  a  multitude  of 
sins, — and  he  added,  that  this  fact  should  help  us  to 
forgive.  But — "  (her  face  paling)  "he  did  not  urge 
me  to  tell  him  what  you  said." 

"But  you  did  not  forgive  me; — and  you  look  just 
now,  like  you  never  would.  And  really,  Miss  Bathurst, 
I  have  failed  to  find  what  there  was  in  my  indiscre 
tion,  which  merits  the  punishment  you  have  given  me." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  your  view  of  it?" 

"My  view  of  it — ?  At  first  I  was  more  shocked  than 
offended.  My  pride  was  touched,  when  you  accused 
me  of  being  in  love  with  a  married  man — and — of 
being  aware  of  the  fact." 

Felix  was  young — and  there  was  something  in  her 
own  words  just  spoken,  which  diverted  her.  She  buried 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  337 

her  face  in  her  hands,  and  laughed — a  little  hysteri 
cally,  it  is  true — but  so  musically  and  contagiously, 
that  Berenger  joined  in  her  merriment. 

"Come  now,  I  like  that,  although  I  came  near  drop 
ping  my  lines — it  was  like  clearing  a  brier-hedge.  We 
get  rid  of  the  thorns  ana  other  obstacles,  at  one  sweep 
—and—" 

"Of  course,  if  you  believed  this,  you  could  not  respect 
me — and — "  (the  sweet  face  grew  grave  again)  "and 
it  was  hard  to  bear." 

"In  my  thoughts, — I  have  always  held  you  above 
almost  everybody  I  have  ever  known.  I  prized  your 
friendship — you  can  hardly  conceive,  what  it  has  been 
to  my  father,  Daisy  and  me — and  when  I  found  I  had 
lost  all  this— Oh!— "  (speaking  with  difficulty)  "Oh, 
I  cannot  make  you  understand,  how  it  was!" 

"Don't  try,"  said  Berenger,  moved  with  a  loving 
pity  beyond  control.  "Don't  say  any  more,  it  breaks 
my  heart — I  spoke  first  of  what  should  have  been  kept 
until  all  had  been  explained." 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  but  we  differ  so  in  our 
views  of  that.  I  thinking  of  the  whole  conversation  as 
a  criminal  one  and  you  taking  an  entirely  opposite 
stand  in  regard  to  it,  at  that  time,  the  result  would 
have  been  the  same.  Since  then,  however,  I  have 
learned  that  this  has  been  an  often  disputed  point — 
and  although  my  ideas  will  always  be  the  same — I  can 
understand  how  others  may  be  equally  honest  in  a 
different  opinion.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  Mr.  Ber 
enger,  it  doesn't  lessen  the  pain  of  a  hurt  like  that 
from  a  cherished  friend,  to  learn  that  it  was  a  joke." 

"A  joke!  How  absurd — that  was  a  clumsy  inven 
tion  used  for  finding  a  way  to  let  you  know  that  what 
ever  my  offense  might  have  been  I  had  no  wish  to 
wound  your  feelings.  I  came  in  an  ace  of  following 
you  that  night,  and  telling  your  father  the  whole  un 
happy  truth.  My  greatest  mistake  was  in  thinking 
that  you,  like  myself,  knew  how  it  was  with  us  both. 
For  say  what  you  will,  Felix,  you  know  that  you  love 


338  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

me.  You  are  hiding  the  truth  from  principle,  and 
you've  done  pretty  well.  You've  almost  deceived  me. 
When  a  man  loves  a  woman  as  I  love  you" — he  stopped 
— seeing  something  of  the  fright  and  dismay  which 
had  marked  her  expression,  when  he  had  first  spoken 
of  love.  "Before  I  go  farther,  let  me  tell  you,  that,  in 
all  but  the  law,  I  have  been  a  single  man  for  nearly 
two  years.  Now  I  know  you  can  hear  me  without 
anger.  When  a  man  loves  a  woman  as  I  love  you,  he 
loves  no  other  in  all  his  life,  or  throughout  all  etern 
ity.  When  I  gave  you  to  understand  this,  about  seven 
months  ago,  1  had  no  reason  to  believe  that  I  would 
not  legally  be  free,  in  two  years  from  that  time  at 
the  farthest;  and  believing  this,  I  could  see  no  wrong 
in  telling  you  as  much,  and  asking  you  to  wait.  I  knew 
that  the  people  were  talking.  If  you  once  promised,  you 
would  not  break  your  word.  I  would  be  away — and 
with  this  understanding — we  could  afford  to  go  our 
separate  ways  for  awhile,  and  thus  put  down  the 
rumors  which  were  growing  to  a  degree  that  was  in 
jurious  to  us  both.  This  is  all  I  would  have  said.  Do 
you  blame  me  for  being  provoked  when  you  ran  off?" 
Thinking  of  Capt.  Tabor's  communication,  Felix,  after 
a  silence  of  several  minutes  said: — 

"I  learned  something  of  this  afterwards,  but  you 
can  easily  see  that  any  allusion  to  it  by  me  would  have 
been  indelicate  and — out  of  place.  But  had  I  been  sure 
of  it,  I  could  never  have  entered  into  such  a  compact 
as  you  describe.  You  are  still  bound  by  law — I  may 
express  myself  badly;  but,  Mr.  Berenger,  everything 
I  have  ever  been  taught — my  whole  training  is  opposed 
to  what  I  am  doing  now.  Our  names,  you  told  me, 
were  'by-words.'  I  afterwards  found  them  to  have 
been  associated  in  a  shameful  way,  and  so  many  hurt 
ful  falsehoods  have  been  circulated  that  it  makes  it 
a  bold  thing  for  us  to  be  seen  together  on  the  public 
highway." 

"Yes,  I  knew  all  that,  but  it  vexes  me  to  hear  you 
•  speak  of  it.  I  would  rather  you  did  not  care ;  and 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  339 

really  it  isn't  worth  it.  As  for  me  I  deserve  all  that 
has  fallen  to  my  share ;  and  yet  in  extenuation, — I  can 
justly  plead  ignorance,  as  being  the  cause  of  the  first 
step  in  a  wrong  direction.  From  the  first,  I  had  to 
struggle  with  honor  and  conscience  in  my  efforts  to 
overcome  what  appears  to  most  men  and  women  to  be 
the  worst  of  crimes.  Give  me  credit  for  what  i  did  not 
do.  The  honourable  course  was,  after  all,  the  one  I 
neglected  to  take — for  what  is  marriage  without  love 
but  a  crime !  A  union  that  shocks  every  refined  sensi 
bility  of  a  man's  soul.  I  have  received  neither  com 
pensation  nor  consolation  for  the  sacrifices  I  have 
made.  When  we  were  friends,  I  could  see  you  and 
from  time  to  time  be  near  you  and  talk  to  you,  and 
always  parted  from  you,  feeling  myself  to  be  a  better 
man  for  the  privilege.  Felix,  if  that  morning  under 
the  live  oaks,  I  had  said  what  I  now  say,  what  would 
have  been  your  answer?"  She  started  visibly  at  the 
words.  A  momentary  feeling  of  joy  illuminated  her 
features.  For  an  instant,  and  for  the  first  time  since 
their  reconciliation,  she  looked  him  squarely  in  the 
face.  The  glad,  happy  smile  changed  into  a  thought 
ful  one. 

"I  had  heard — I  knew  why  you  were  going  back.  I 
knew  your  obligations — I  would  then  as  now  have  be 
lieved  it  your  duty  to  fullfil  them." 

"You  would  not  then,  at  that  time,  have  acknowl 
edged  that  you  loved  me?" 

"I  have  never  acknowledged  that  I  loved  you." 

"You  can  tell  me  then,  that  you  have  never  loved 
me!  Just  let  me  hear  you  say  that!"  He  pulled  up 
his  horses  to  a  stop.  "It  will  settle  a  difficulty,  and 
according  to  your  way  of  thinking  will  be  a  pious  act. 
If  you  can  say  that,  there  will  be  nothing  more  forever 
between  me  and  what  you  take  to  be  my  duty.  You 
know  the  kind  of  love  I  mean." 

She  sat  with  drooping  eyelids,  the  dark  lashes  touch 
ing  the  soft  cheeks ;  silent  and  inscrutable ;  making  no 
attempt  to  answer. 


340  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Why  do  you  not  tell  me,  Felix?  This  thing  which 
will  make  all  so  plain." 

"I  think  it  is  wrong  for  you  and  me  to  speak  of  love 
— don't  ask  me." 

"You  will  not  say  then,  that  you  do  not  love  me? 
My  darling!  I  would  not  exchange  the  last  half-hour 
of  my  life  for  all  the  hours  that  have  gone  before,  and 
the  future  can  hold  none  sweeter." 

Up  to  this  time  they  had  been  oblivious  to  the  vari 
ous  signs  showing  the  certainty  of  the  approaching 
storm.  The  horses  were  walking  slowly — a  light  touch 
of  the  whip  brought  them  to  a  sharp  trot.  Before  them 
lay  an  unbroken  prairie  a  mile  or  more  in  length,  the 
road  running  a  little  to  the  southeast.  At  the  end  of  it 
and  to  the  right,  stood  the  Garza  ranch.  If  they  could 
only  reach  that. 

"It  will  be  impossible.  It  is  a  mile  and  the  storm 
will  be  upon  us  in  five  or  ten  minutes.  Unfasten  the 
apron  from  the  dashboard,  Felix,  and  reach  over  and 
get  the  waterproof  under  the  back  seat.  Be  quick !  We 
have  no  time  to  lose.  Put  it  on.  No,  don't  buckle  the 
apron,  we  may  be  thrown  out.  Look  dearest,  to  the 
southwest!  Here  it  comes!" 

Slowly  settling  back  and  over  the  tops  of  a  grove  of 
live  oaks,  were  black  and  everchanging  clouds,  through 
which  could  be  seen  the  lurid,  yellow  fire  of  the  blaz 
ing  sun.  A  thick,  dark  vapor  began  to  shape  itself  in 
front  of  this,  from  which  a  series  of  mutterings  and 
rumblings  could  be  heard.  Then  came  flocks  of  birds 
flying  high  up  in  the  air.  Cattle  were  running  wildly. 
A  terrific  explosion  of  thunder,  with  fast  darting 
points  of  lightning,  which — ever  increasing — merged 
into  flashes  of  flame — coming  in  such  quick,  quivering 
succession  as  made  the  Heavens  one  sheet  of  fire. 

The  horses  reared, — standing  almost  straight  in 
their  extreme  fright.  The  voice  and  the  strong,  firm 
hand  of  their  master,  brought  them  to  submission. 

The  shifting  wind  now  met  them,  blowing  in  their 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  341 

faces  and  making  it  difficult  to  keep  to  the  road.  Down 
to  the  front  were  clouds. of  dust  whirling  high  to  meet 
the  clouds. 

"We  can't  make  it,  Felix !    Here  comes  the  hail !" 

With  furious  noise  and  uproar  the  hailstones — great 
and  small — flew  about  them,  pelting  the  horses  and 
themselves  alike.  They  were  borne  obliquely  by  the 
wind  with  terrific  force.  One  of  them,  the  size  of  a 
hen's  egg,  hitting  the  splash  board  with  a  crashing 
report,  Berenger  called  out : — 

"Hold  down  your  head.  Draw  the  waterproof  over 
your  hat!  Well  have  to  sail  with  the  wind.  We'll  cut 
across  to  that  little  jacal  on  the  left!"  His  voice  was 
scarcely  audible  above  the  roar.  A  frightful  blast  of 
wind  lifted  a  wild  china  tree  by  its  roots  out  of  the 
ground — a  peal  of  thunder  following — the  horses 
started  on  a  dead  run  across  the  level  prairie. 

"Never  mind,  let  'em  run.  Ho ! —  Good  boys !  Here 
we  are ! — Over  one  mile  in  a  minute  and  a  half !"  Big 
drops  of  rain  were  now  mixed  with  the  hailstones  as 
Berenger  drove  under  the  live  oaks. 

"Get  out  and  run  in,  Felix.  Hop  over  the  wheel! 
Quick — as  lightning!" — laughing  as  she  struggled  with 
the  door  and  not  being  able  to  open  it,  flew  back  to 
the  shed  under  which  he  was  fastening  the  trembling 
horses. 

"We'll  break  in,  if  this  stops,  but  I'm  afraid  it  will 
keep  up  until  the  river  rises.  What  a  lark !  We  made 
that  last  quarter  without  a  jolt.  Are  you  wet?" 

"Not  in  the  least;  but  you  must  be." 

"A  trifle — a  few  drops  on  my  coat.  Come  nearer, 
while  1  look  for  damages."  Felix  removed  the  water 
proof  and  stood  leaning  against  the  wall  of  the  shed. 
The  rain  now  fell  in  sheets  and  torrents,  making  in 
visible  even  the  hut  which  stood  so  near  them. 

Noticing  the  increasing  darkness,  she  looked  at  her 
watch  and  saw  that  it  would  still  be  an  hour  till  sun 
down,  and  that  the  gloom  was  induced  by  the  freshly 
forming  clouds.  Berenger  was  busied  about  the  cart 


342  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

and  harness — examining  them  for  strains  or  breakages 
— and  in  soothing  and  petting  the  horses — these  prov 
ing  themselves  appreciative  by  too  actively  caressing 
him  with  their  noses  whenever  he  came  in  reach  of 
them. 

Forgetting  all  else,  Felicia,  noting  his  natural,  un 
studied  grace  of  movement,  was  wondering  if  in  all 
the  world  there  was  anyone  else  so  handsome — so 
strong — so  perfect  in  all  ways.  The  ecstacy  of  su 
preme  happiness  caused  by  his  last  bold  declaration, 
was  still  present.  When  in  their  wild  race  across  the 
prairie  she  had  not  felt  a  throb  of  fear.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  said  in  plain  words  that  he  loved 
her.  That  he  had  entrapped  her  into  a  like  admission, 
she  did  not  consider.  Let  it  go.  He  had  known  all 
along  that  she  loved  him;  she  had  now  in  a  manner 
admitted  the  truth.  She  could  not  now,  while  she 
could  see  him — could  hear  his  dear  voice  and  be  near 
him — trouble  about  the  future.  Not  with  the  music  of 
the  wind  and  rain  falling  upon  her  heart  would  she 
look  beyond  the  present. 

When  he  had  made  her  understand  that  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  sit  by  Mrs.  Gaultier — and  his  reason  for 
not  wishing  it,  she  felt  from  that  instant  that  she  had 
been  mistaken,  and  not  for  a  moment  did  she  doubt 
his  version  of  their  chance  companionship.  And  when 
he  told  with  an  air  of  truth  how  it  occurred,  she  be 
lieved  him,  and  threw  all  former  suspicions  caused  by 
rumors  of  his  intimacy  with  this  person,  to  the  winds 
of  Heaven.  No!  There  was  no  man  braver — few  so 
beautiful — and  there  could,  never  to  her,  be  one  so 
dear. 

The  shed  under  which  they  had  taken  refuge  was 
one  of  a  half  dozen,  which  formerly  had  been  used  as 
winter  quarters  for  sheep.  Large  flocks  of  these  had 
been  moved  westward,  a  few  only  remaining  at  this 
ranch.  These  were  cared  for  by  the  Mexican  shep- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  343 

herd  who  occupied  the  nearest  hut.  The  traces  having 
been  unbuckled  and  the  horses  loosed  from  the  dog 
cart,  they  had  seated  themselves  therein. 

"Now  we  are  safe  so  long  as  it  is  daylight,"  said  Ber- 
enger,  gaily. 

It  was  still  raining;  sometimes  in  blinding  sheets, 
then  dropping  slowly  and  steadily. 

"I've  known  a  rain  like  this  to  keep  on  for  twenty- 
four  hours  with  but  little  intermission.  At  the  first 
break  in  it,  I  will  get  in  at  the  little  back  window  and 
open  the  door  for  you.  Vicente,  the  old  fellow  that 
lives  here,  closes  the  door  only  to  keep  out  the  goats. 
He  keeps  it  very  clean  and  is  a  good  cook.  I  have  some 
times  had  coffee  or  chocolate  there.  I  will  make  a 
fire  and  give  you  a  cup  of  chocolate." 

"You?  I,  myself,  will  make  which  ever  it  may  be; 
if  chocolate,  we  must  have  milk." 

"That  will  be  housekeeping,"  he  said  quizzically. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  good  housekeeper.  We  will  be  most  apt 
to  find  some  panecillos — I  believe  they  are  called — 
little  rolls  which  are  baked  with  all  sorts  of  little 
cakes  in  the  small  outdoor  ovens.  The  Mexicans  al 
ways  keep  them  at  father's  Nueces  ranch ;  failing  them 
we  may  find  beans  or  tortillas.  This  will  do,  will  it 
not,  in  the  absence  of  something  different?" 

"A  neat  bill  of  fare.  But  just  now — this  is  glorious ! 
This  being  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  Look! 
we  can  no  longer  see  the  hut.  It  is  like  the  beginning  of 
the  world."  He  was  looking  tenderly — adoringly  into 
the  sweet  unconscious  face.  "The  Garden  of  Eden — 
the  Beginning,  Felix!" 

"Oh,  my  darling!  Let  us  imagine — let  us  dream  it 
is  true!" 


Darkness  was  approaching.  There  had  been  a  few 
minutes  cessation  of  the  wind  and  rain,  and  they  had 
reached  the  hut,  made  chocolate,  and  as  expected,  had 
found  the  little  cakes;  chatting  merrily,  they  had  put 


344  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

everything  to  rights: — Berenger  leaving  a  piece  of 
silver  on  the  little  table — something  he  had  often  done 
before,  he  explained. 

Felix  had  found  a  curious  lamp,  on  the  rude  shelf 
over  the  fire-place — a  kind  often  seen  in  Mexican 
houses,  and  made  of  a  long  wick  covered  with  dark 
red  wax  and  fancifully  wound  in  round  pyramidal 
shape,  broad  at  the  base  and  tapering  to  the  top.  A 
pretty  thing;  she  was  standing  in  its  soft  light,  admir 
ing  its  prettiness,  when  Berenger,  who  had  sat  quietly 
thinking  for  many  minutes,  spoke  abruptly — saying : — 

"Felix,  for  the  first  time  in  our  acquaintance  of 
many  years  standing,  we  can  speak  freely  of  our  own 
affairs — to  us  of  such  immense  importance.  We  know 
that  we  have  loved  each  other  from  the  first  hour  of 
meeting.  What  are  we  to  do?  Come  and  sit  here,  and 
let  us  talk  it  over,  and  decide  upon  our  future  course 
of  conduct."  She  obediently  moved  a  chair  quite  near, 
and  sat  facing  him. 

"I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  can  hope  to 
be  free.  I  have  brought  every  force  to  bear  upon  my 
— opponent — which  might  induce  her  to  bring  suit 
for  a  divorce.  My  father,  and  even  my  step-mother 
have  advised  her — her  own  relatives  think  it  best.  But 
the  united  pleading  of  all  only  tends  to  increase  her 
obstinacy,  for  that  is  what  it  is.  I  have  decided  to 
bring  suit  myself.  But  even  then,  with  such  strong 
and  determined  opposition,  it  may  be  two  or  more 
years  before  we  can  marry.  How  will  it  be  with  us  in 
the  meantime?" 

"Before  we  can  marry!"  said  Felix,  like  one  waken 
ing  from  sleep.  Looking  wonderingly  at  him,  she  re 
peated  inquiringly: — "Before  we  can  marry?" 

"Of  course  we  will  marry  after  this  divorce  is  gained 
by  one  or  the  other  of  us — Mrs.  Berenger  or  myself — 
it  doesn't  matter  which — and  after — you  and  I  will 
certainly  marry.  That  will  be  right,  won't  it?" 

"No,  Mr.  Berenger,  I  think  not — " 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  345 

"Don't  call  me  Mr.  Berenger ;  to  you  I  must  always, 
hereafter,  be  Archie.  You  have  said — or  tacitly 
agreed — would  best  express  it — that  you  loved  me. 
Why  may  we  not  some  day  be  married?  Would  you 
have  me  forego  the  divorce,  and  return?" — 'Felicia  had 
been  dreaming.  For  a  little  while  her  conscience  had 
been  asleep.  She  became  instantly  alert  and  widely 
awake;  and  at  the  same  time  pale  and  frightened  to 
see  the  gathering  anger  in  his  face. 

"You  ought  to  do  that,"  forcing  the  words  out  of 
her  throat  and  clasping  her  hands  tightly  together; 
and  as  though  just  beginning  to  realize  what  she  had 
been  doing,  she  bent  forward,  saying: — 

"Oh,  Mr.  Berenger,  go  back  to  your  family.  Do  not 
force  this  fearful  responsibilty  upon  me!  Do  not  get 
a  divorce — nothing  should  part  man  and  wife.  You 
said — if  I  would  say  that  I  did  not  love  you,  nothing 
would  stand  in  the  way  of  your  duty: — that  implied 
that  if  it  were  not  for  me,  you  could  go  back.  I  could 
not  say  that.  But  we  can  both  do  what  is  right." 

"There  is  every  possibility  of  our  differing  as  to 
what  is  right.  If  you  could  have  convinced  me  that 
you  did  not  love  me  or  could  not  love  me,  that  fact  alone 
might  have  helped  to  make  up  my  mind ;  it  would  have 
left  me  little  else  to  do.  As  it  is,  I  think  there  would 
be  far  less  of  wrong  in  packing  up  our  belongings  and 
going  to  parts  unknown.  I  can  think  of  no  greater — 
or  a  more  soul-destroying  sin — than  for  a  man  or 
woman  to  live  in  such  a  relation  with  one  whom  he  or 
she  can  not  love.  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Felix,  that  you 
will  not  wait  for  me.  That  I  have  nothing  to  hope 
for?" 

"I  can  hardly  answer  you,"  she  gasped  rather  than 
spoke.  "I  feel  that  I  am  much  to  blame — I  can  recall 
numberless  acts,  in  which  I  am  to  blame.  I  am  very 
sorry,  Mr.  Berenger ;  I  will  be  sorry  all  my  life." 

"You  believe  sincerely,  that  I  ought  to  go  back?" 

"I  believe  sincerely,  that  it  is  the  only  right  way." 


346  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"You  believe  sincerely,  that  I  ought  to  go  back.  In 
my  place  you  would  do  so  yourself?" 

"I  would  advise  no  one  to  do  what  I  would  be  un 
willing  to  do.  If  I  by  any  blunder — or  compulsion  from 
unforseen  causes,  were  forced  to  live  in  such  relation, 
I  feel  assured  that  I  would  be  mentally  and  morally 
sustained  by  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  I  was  keep 
ing  my  word,  and  with  the  help  of  God,  I  would  keep 
my  vows  to  the  end." 

"As  I  said,  we  differ: — for  I  can  think  of  nothing 
lower  or  more  degrading."  Looking  very  angry  he 
added: — "Since  your  admission  an  hour  or  two  ago, 
I  had  lost  sight  of  your  scruples.  Seeing  that  you  love 
me,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  how  you  can  recommend 
an  act  that  would  condemn  me  to  a  life  that  I  have 
already  found  to  be  a  Hell  upon  earth.  I  have  been 
absurdly  happy  this  afternoon." 

"And  I,  also.  I  have  been  equally  guitly,"  the  clasped 
hands —  bearing  strongly  on  the  little  table  in  front  of 
her  showed  how  great  was  her  repressed  excitement. 

"Equally  guilty?  Speak  for  yourself,  Felix,  I  am 
not  conscience  stricken;  and  it  may  relieve  yours  to 
know  that  you  are  not  responsible  for  any  of  my  sins ; 
either  of  the  past  or  future: — for  know  now,  that  I 
will  never  return.  The  memory  of  one  evening  like 
this,  would  make  the  yoke  too  galling.  As  I  am  not  to 
go  back,  you  are  yet  to  tell  me  what  course  we  are 
going  to  take." 

"What  course  we  are  going  to  take?  Is  it  possible 
to  mark  out  any  particular  course?  I  hardly  know 
what  you  mean." 

"I  think  I  know  what  you  mean.  Why  not  look  me 
in  the  face  and  tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do. 
Come  now — send  me  about  my  business — adrift — 
You  seem  to  have  made  up  your  mind  to  martydom. 
What  does  it  matter  to — to  anyone — be  first  sure  of 
yourself  and  your  own  happiness,  and  I  will  abide  by 


I  £  OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  347 

your  decision.  I  am  thinking  it  will  be  the  hardest 
blow  I've  had  to  bear,  and  the  heavier  as  it  comes  from 
you." 

Overwhelmed  by  his  displeasure,  she  bowed  her 
head  on  the  little  table  and  sobbed.  His  anger  all  gone, 
in  an  instant  he  was  bending  over  her — his  arm  on  the 
back  of  her  chair — his  face  close  to  hers,  as  one  would 
soothe  a  child. 

"No  one  could  punish  you,  Felix.  Don't  cry  like  this. 
I  did  feel  vexed  with  you — enough  so  to  take  you  by 
the  shoulders  and  shake  you: — for  you  act  and  think 
like  a  child.  Be  a  woman!  You  have  been  petted, 
cared  for  and  cherished  as  something  precious  all  your 
life — your  friends  and  relatives  have  taken  the  best 
care  of  you,  and  you  have  always  been  worth  it.  But 
you  have  a  good  mind  of  your  own — then  why  not  work 
out  your  soul's  salvation  without  the  help  of  anybody? 
We  can  think  this  out  by  ourselves, — without  giving 
too  much  regard  to  the  wornout  whims  and  fancies 
of  puritanical  hypocrites — who  perhaps  if  the  truth 
were  known,  commit  more  sin  in  a  week  than  you  or 
I  would  in  a  life-time.  I  am  not  including  our  own 
immediate  relatives  in  this  supposition,  though  as  far 
as  my  own  nearest  and  dearest  could  go,  they  have 
done  their  worst.  Our  case  is  an  unusual  one — don't 
you  think  we  ought,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  keep 
all  things  relating  to  it  from  the  public — especially  the 
public  of  our  own  separate  neighborhoods?" 

"Tell  me  what  you  think  of  what  I  have  said." 

Felix  now  sat  straight  in  her  chair  with  partially 
regained  composure. 

"What  you  have  just  said  would  be  best,  if  it  could 
be  carried  out  as  you  wish ;  and  our  affair  as  far  as  it 
has  gone  ought  to  be  kept  secret — in  truth  it  must  be 
kept  secret.  But,  Mr.  Berenger, — " 

"Archie." 

She  smiled  half  sadly  at  the  interruption. 

"I  am  afraid  and  a  little  ashamed  to  tell  you  that 
after  your — your  avowal  several  months  ago,  I  thought 


348  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

of  nothing  else  whenever  not  occupied  in  trying  to 
forget  it : — and  looking  at  it  from  every  point  of  view, 
I  could  see  no  good  that  could  come  out  of  it,  except 
perhaps,  that  which  grows  out  of  proper  submission 
to  the  will  of  God." 

Seeing  that  he  was  again  growing  impatient,  she 
begged  him  to  bear  with  her  for  a  little.  She  would 
look  into  it  again — and  about  the  divorce — she  would 
read  and  talk  with  her  father  about  that.  Perhaps  his 
views  were  not  so  strict  since  his  bitter  experience  of 
a  year  or  two  ago. 

But  in  conclusion  she  said  with  trembling  voice: — 

"Do  not  think  I  am  at  all  like  a  child,  Mr.  Berenger ; 
sometimes  I  think  I  have  never  been  like  a  child;  and 
as  for  being  taken  care  of — like  a  helpless  or  useless 
person — I  have  sometimes  taken  care  of  others. 

"I  cry  because  I  have  made  you  angry,  and  may  yet 
have  to  add  to  your  troubles.  You  said  you  know,  that 
your  hardest  blow  would  come  from  me.  And  you 
looked  as  if  you  thought  I  had  no  feeling  about  it." 

"Oh,  I  know  you  feel  a  certain  amount  of  concern 
and  firmness — when  you  make  up  your  mind.  But 
it's  funny  to  think  you  may  one  day  be  taking  care 
of  me,  when  I  had  been  counting  on  the  pleasure  of 
taking  care  of  you." 

"I  neither  said  nor  meant  anything  of  the  kind.  I 
spoke  only  of  what  I  had  already  done." 

"In  your  own  home?  Yes.  But  to  battle  with  the 
world — It  is  my  dearest  hope  to  keep  you  from  that; 
for  in  such  a  struggle  you  would  indeed  be  a  child — a 
child  not  able  to  walk  alone  for  even  a  f^w  days.  But 
this  is  irrelevant,  and  sometimes  I  have  a  premonition 
of  failure;  I  believe  I  love  you  too  well.  I  want  you 
more  than  mortal  man  ought  to  want  anything.  He 
had  not  taken  his  arm  from  the  back  of  her  chair,  and 
now  he  impulsively  embraced  her — kissing  her  on 
forehead  and  lips,  many  times.  Arising  and  again 
standing  near  the  lamp  she  looked  back  with  aston 
ishment — her  face  aflame. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  349 

"Surely,  Felix,  you  are  not  angry  with  me?  I  hoped 
you  would  not  be." 

"I  am  not,"  she  answered,  the  colour  leaving  her 
face.  "But  I  know  both  you  and  myself  better  than  I 
did  before  we  entered  this  little  cabin.  I  know  just 
what  your  act  implies,  Archie.  You  see  I  can  now  call 
you  by  your  Christian  name." 

"I  know.  My  act  implies  that  you  are  believing  all 
the  bad  things  you  ever  heard  about  me.  And  you  look 
like  you  would  run  out  in  the  rain  if  I  repeated  it.  I 
plunged  into  that  just  now,  but  if  I  had  stopped  to 
think,  it  would  have  been  the  same.  You  might  as 
well  ask  me  not  to  breathe.  But  don't  begin  to  cry 
again  or  I'll  be  whimpering  myself."  Felix  laughed. 

"I  will  not.  But  I  do  not  yet  realize  how  we  stand, 
and  I  beg  you  to  consider  the  greater  part  of  what  I've 
said  as  meaningless;  for  if  I'm  unable  to  walk  at 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  I  must  have  time  to  think." 

"Then  we  will  have  another  meeting,  which  for  the 
sake  of  prudence  must  be  a  private  one.  At  present 
we  will  say  no  more  about  a  difference  of  opinion  but 
go  home.  The  rain  is  not  quite  over  but  the  wind  has 
ceased,  and  we  can  manage  to  keep  dry." 

When  on  the  way  both  were  silent,  or  at  most  speak 
ing  in  monosyllables.  Berenger,  reviewing  the  events 
of  the  day,  felt  it  to  have  been  the  happiest  of  his  life ; 
and  yet  some  of  its  experiences  had  brought  the  keen 
est  regret ;  of  a  kind  that  had  awakened  his  conscience 
in  a  manner  never  to  be  forgotten.  But  he  would  be 
the  better  for  it.  He  turned  to  his  quiet  companion, 
thinking  that  charming  as  was  her  physical  beauty 
and  great  as  was  its  influence,  there  was  a  stronger 
power  back  of  it;  numberless  indescribable  and  vari 
able  expressions  visible  in  her  replies  to  him,  and  also 
in  her  attitude  towards  him  in  the  jacal,  revealed  the 
purity  of  its  source.  He  told  himself  that  he  had  never 
before  known  a  woman  like  this;  that  she  had  from 
the  first  brought  out  the  best  that  was  in  him, 


350  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

A  gust  of  wind  bringing  with  it  a  shower  of  rain 
compelled  them  to  turn  the  back  of  the  dog-cart  against 
it.  Neither  had  spoken,  when  after  a  few  minutes  they 
had  again  turned  about. 

Shaken  by  the  sudden  turn  of  affairs  in  the  morn 
ing,  Felicia,  who  on  first  going  into  Vicente's  quarters 
alone  with  her  lover,  had  felt  no  fear  of  any  undue 
familiarity  on  his  part,  now  awoke  to  a  danger  far 
greater  than  the  fact  of  their  imprudence  being  made 
known  in  the  neighborhood.  The  phrase,  "Give  me 
credit  for  what  I  did  not  do,"  now  came  back  to  her 
with  comprehended  meaning.  The  whole  personality 
of  the  man,  subdued  though  it  was  in  a  school  of  self- 
enforced  discipline,  held  a  trace  of  the  gay  frolicsome, 
debonair  youth,  parted  from  but  a  few  short  years 
ago;  and  which  still  though  united  with  the  stronger 
traits  of  mind  and  heart,  made  him  irresistible  to 
women.  Perhaps  this  meant  that  he  knew  the  quality 
of  his  passion  for  women ;  and  that  knowing,  had  over 
come  temptation.  Was  he  not  therefore  more  worthy 
of  love  and  respect?  Quite  as  if  in  answer  to  this  ques 
tion,  Berenger  spoke: 

"It's  hardly  fair  to  say  anything  so  soon  after  prom 
ising  silence,  and  at  the  first  hint  I'll  stop ;  but  I  want 
to  know  if  you've  quite  forgiven  me  for  what  I  did; 
some  day  I  will  say  more  in  self -excuse  than  I  think 
it  good  to  say  just  now.  At  present  I  want  you  to  be 
lieve  I  am  sorry." 

"I  do.  But  having  passed  certain  boundary  lines  I 
may  say  that  it  would  be  hard  for  you  to  make  me 
angry.  I  believe  I  could  forgive  you  almost  anything 
— taking  in  consideration  the  difference  between  us; 
for — for — I'm  afraid  all  men — except  perhaps  a  few 
who  are  not  men  of  the  world  or  business  men  en 
grossed  by  things  of  importance,  regard  such — such — " 

She  stopped — hopelessly  involved.  He  did  not  help 
her  out. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  351 

"Oh,  there  are  men,"  she  said,  after  a  minute  or 
two,  "who  regard  such  matters  as  we  have  under  con 
sideration,  as  of  secondary  importance  or  beneath 
notice."  Berenger  laughed  boyishly. 

"I  don't  belong  to  the  class.  Such  matters  as  we  have 
under  consideration,  touching  upon  the  rights  of  lovers 
as  they  do,  are  of  the  first  importance  and  must  have 
first  place  in  the  agreement  we  are  going  to  make. 
You  have  not  said  we  will  be  married,  but,  nevertheless 
we  will.  We  will  be  engaged;  that  being  the  case,  I 
do  not  object  to  kissing." 

"I  do.  And  I  will  not  put  it  in  any  agreement.  I 
must  beg  you  to  be  serious.  I  am  shocked,"  she  said, 
nervously  trying  to  suppress  what  she  felt  was  a  flip 
pant  tendency  to  laugh.  His  mood  changed  at  once. 

"Serious?  You  would  never  guess  how  really  seri 
ous  I  feel  just  now.  How  wicked  I  am  at  times.  If 
you  could  know  that,  I'm  afraid  you  would  not  be  able 
to  love  me ;  but  I  know  you  would  be  sorry." 

"I  do  not  believe  it,"  bending  towards  him  in  ready 
sympathy  with  a  swift  look  of  concern  so  sincere,  so 
exquisitely  feminine,  that,  though  seen  only  in  the 
half  dim  starlight,  thrilled  him  to  the  heart;  he  had 
been  the  recipient  of  such  at  odd  times  in  their  past, 
and  always  with  a  sense  of  humour — recalling  how  far 
he  fell  below  her  standard  of  masculine  superiority. 


552  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  OLD  LAS  PEREDAS  ROAD. 

The  rain  was  over.  The  storm  had  moved  on.  The 
moon  shone  on  pools  of  water  in  the  roads;  when  not 
covered  by  the  shifting,  vapoury  clouds,  which  told 
that  it  was  still  raining  above. 

They  had  reached  a  place  where  the  road  running 
along  or  near  the  river  was  sheltered  by  timber.  On 
one  side  of  it  lay  an  unbroken  succession  of  farms  and 
pastures.  Close  by  the  fence  of  one  of  these  nearest 
the  river  was  a  number  of  horses,  and  near  them  was 
Max,  quietly  grazing.  .  Felix  called  him.  With  gentle 
neigh  of  welcome,  he  trotted  towards  them  with  dainty 
tread,  still  with  the  saddle  on  and  dragging  a  broken 
rein. 

"I  will  get  out  and  go  home  alone,"  said  Felix,  at 
tempting  to  spring  from  the  dogcart  before  the  horses 
could  be  brought  to  a  full  stop. 

"That  will  never  do.  I  must  see  you  across  the  river ; 
I  feel  quite  sure  it  is  rising.  I  will  fasten  his  bridle 
to  the  back  of  the  cart."  But  Felix  refused.  She  had 
a  shrinking  fear  of  meeting  some  one. 

"You  can,  if  you  like,  drive  along  the  road  until  we 
are  in  sight  of  the  ford."  But  when  he  had  helped  her 
to  mount  and  was  about  to  get  in  his  cart,  she  called 
him  back,  speaking  as  if  fearful  of  being  overheard: 

"There  is  a  foot-bridge  here;  I'm  sure  I  saw  someone 
running  across  the  path.  Mr.  Berenger,  do  let  me  go 
alone ;  I  don't  want  any  one  to  know  when  I  get  home. 
The  servants — some  of  them — may  be  on  the  river 
banks  to-night.  Any  kind  of  a  carriage  would  attract 
attention  by  its  noise.  I  can  take  off  my  saddle  and 
turn  Max  loose,  myself,  and  no  one  will  know." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  353 

"What  a  little  coward!"  he  said,  leaning  on  the 
pony's  neck  and  taking  her  hand — pressing  it  to  his 
lips  and  forehead  caressingly.  "I  will  do  whatever 
you  wish,  but  it  is  late — it  is  after  ten  o'clock.  I  do 
not  like  to  leave  you  here."  Taking  her  hand  in  both 
his  own,  he  continued.  "You  will  try  to  think  the 
best  of  me  always,  won't  you  ?  Won't  you  promise  me 
that?" 

"You  mean  that  I  must  always  love  you,  and  never 
blame  you,"  she  answered  nervously.  You  know  you 
do  not  have  to  ask  me  that ;  for  being  older  and  wiser, 
you  knew  that  before  I  was  aware  of  it  myself;  but 
we  have  been  five  hours  and  a  half  alone  together  in  a 
little  wayside  hut.  If  it  were  known  it  would  mean 
ruin." 

"It  will  be  known  that  I  left  Roe's  to  take  you  home. 
No  one  saw  us  enter  the  jacal,  and  no  one  saw  us  leave 
it.  Don't  be  afraid."  Bidding  him  good  night,  she 
rode  in  a  swift  trot  up  the  river  to  the  lower  ford.  He 
stood  looking  after — debating  whether  or  not  it  would 
be  best  to  follow  her  in  spite  of  her  wish  to  the  con 
trary  ;  ending  at  last  by  concluding  that  it  might  be  im 
prudent,  and  as  it  was  only  a  couple  of  hundred  yards, 
he  would  go  home.  Just  as  he  had  untied  his  horses 
he  again  stopped  as  if  listening.  He  had  heard  much 
of  the  yearly  recurring  danger  of  death  from  drowning 
in  attempting  to  cross  the  mountain  streams  of  the 
Southwest,  and  knew  of  a  few  persons,  who  though 
knowing  had  braved  it  with  fatal  result.  Again  secur 
ing  his  team  he  ran  down  the  river  bank  and  peering 
into  the  darkness,  he  saw  by  the  flickering  light  of 
the  moon  through  the  tree  tops  that  the  river  was  ris 
ing.  How  fast  it  was  rising  he  was  unable  to  judge; 
but  the  increased  volume  of  water  he  knew  would  make 
it  dangerous  even  now,  for  Felix  to  cross  at  either 
ford.  Perhaps  she  had  already  crossed.  But  if  she 
had  gone  to  the  upper  crossing?  If  so  he  might  be  too 
late.  Horrified  by  the  thought  he  ran  back  with  the 

utmost  speed.    Again  springing  into  his  seat  the  team 
12 


354  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

was  spinning  along  the  road,  one  touch  of  the  whip 
being  enough  for  the  high-mettled  thoroughbreds. 
Dropping  the  lines  when  he  reached  the  ford,  he  ran 
down  the  first  embankment  and  along  the  second, 
straining  his  eyes —  seeing  naught — and  hearing 
naught  by  the  rising  waters,  he  ran  through  the  muddy 
backwater  to  a  little  promontory  coming  in  a  curve 
from  the  outer  bank  below.  Though  the  darkness  had 
increased,  this  point  bringing  him  nearer  the  opposite 
bank,  he  saw  Felix  sitting  quietly  on  her  horse  watch 
ing  the  now  boiling,  eddying  flood  below.  There  were 
voices  above  them  on  both  sides,  but  forgetting  all 
caution,  he  called  out  to  her : — 

"How  did  you  manage,  Felix — did  you  swim  the 
river?" 

"Only  a  length  or  two — I  was  just  in  time — I  am  a 
little  wet,  though  not  to  hurt.  But,  Archie,  go  back, 
the  river  is  alive  with  people." 

"Do  you  go  home  and  take  off  your  wet  clothes,"  he 
said,  tartly ;  aggravated  into  a  revulsion  of  feeling  by 
her  coolness  and  caution  as  contrasted  with  his  own 
intense  anxiety  of  a  few  minutes  before.  "Why  did 
you  come  down  here?" 

"There  is  a  little  fall  here — I  wanted  to  see  it  while 
the  river  is  up.  But  I'll  go  home.  I  will  go  now.  Good 
night!"  Berenger  returned  to  the  road  in  a  spirit  of 
thankfulness  not  to  be  disturbed  by  the  thought  of  a 
possible  walk  home,  which  fortunately  did  not  happen, 
his  horses  having  been  found  a  short  distance  from 
where  he  had  left  them. 

Felix  had  begun  to  take  off  her  saddle,  when  Poly- 
dore  came  hurrying  towards  her  from  the  direction 
of  the  river.  "How  is  it  that  you  are  here,  Polydore? 
Have  you  come  from  the  river?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Felicia,  Candace  sent  me  to  look  after 
the  tubs."  He  offered  no  further  explanation,  and 
Felix,  telling  him  not  to  speak  to  anyone  about  her  com 
ing  so  late,  said  no  more.  He  led  the  horse  away,  mut 
tering  as  he  went.  After  a  little  stable  work,  his  solil- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  355 

oquy  was  continued  as  he  walked  more  slowly  to  the 
house,  until  stopping  in  great  perplexity,  he  stood  as 
if  in  deep  thought. 

"Polydore!"  It  was  Candace.  "What  is  it,  Poly 
dore?" 

In  a  long  whispered  conversation  the  story  was  told, 
when  Candace  in  louder  and  more  peremptory  tones 
than  was  her  wont,  asked: 

"But  are  you  sure  it  was  the  man  you  think  it  was? 
Couldn't  it  have  been  Mr.  Houghton  or  some  other 
young  man.  It  was  dark;  are  you  certain  you  know 
who  it  was?" 

"Know  who  it  was.  Does  I  know  who  you  is?  It 
wasn't  too  dark  to  see ;  I  know  de  man,  and  I  know  de 
voice.  Dey  ain't  no  other  young  man  about  here  what 
could  be  mistook  for  him." 

"I'm  sorry — very  sorry,  and  I  don't  understand  it." 

"Understand  it !  That  ain't  the  question,"  said  Poly 
dore,  in  his  anger  rising  into  better  English.  "The 
question  is  whether  we  are  going  to  take  care  of  them 
children  or  not.  What  right  has  he  got  to  use  that  love 
language?  He's  got  no  divorce!  You  remember  what 
Mis'  Andrea  told  us  that  last  mornin'?  With  the  light 
of  the  soul  which  Heaven  give  to  the  dyin',  she  saw 
this,  and  she  called  us!  Me  and  you,  Candace!  Me 
and  you!  You  know  what  she  meant,  and  you  know 
what  we  promised?" 

"I  know  what  we  promised,  and  we  will  keep  our 
promise;  but  Polydore,  we  must  be  prudent;  we  must 
not  fly  off  and  write  to  Mahse  Darius,  as  Yorke  would 
have  us  do ;  there  may  be  nothing  to  fear." 

"Nothing  to  fear !  Mahse  Darius  would  make  short 
work  of  this;  there  ain't  nothin'  he'd  be  af eared  of. 
But  I'm  not  goin'  to  fly  off,  Candace,  I  always  does 
as  you  tells  me  to  do." 

"We  can  neither  talk  nor  write  about  this  gentle 
man,  Polydore,  he  has  done  too  much  for  our  family. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  I  believe  Mahse  Paul  would 
have  been  ruined." 


356  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"I  know.  You  means  that  Mrs.  Roberson.  You 
means  he  would  have  married  that  thief.  Some  of  de 
rest  of  us  took  a  hand  in  that." 

"I  mean  more  than  that.  I  mean  that  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  this  young  man's  money,  Mahse  Paul  would 
have  lost  his  fortune;  and  if  he  had  married  Mrs. 
Henry,  he  would  have  lost  his  mind.  Mrs.  Andrews 
told  me  she  first  found  out  who  the  woman  really  was 
through  Mr.  Berenger." 

"Candace,  couldn't  you  speak  to  Miss  Felicia,  your 
self?" 

"No,"  then  adding  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "If 
Miss  Felicia  would  first  allude  to  it — yes." 

Felicia  sat  in  her  wet  clothing,  until  a  gentle  knock 
at  the  door  aroused  her. 

"It  is  I,  Miss  Felicia,  I  have  come  for  your  wet 
clothes." 

"In  one  moment,  Candace,"  hastily  changing  from 
the  damp  to  dry  garments,  that  Candace  might  not  be 
troubled  by  the  fact  of  her  having  sat  in  them  so  long, 
she  opened  the  door.  Candace  lingered  a  little  while, 
giving  a  touch  here  and  there  about  the  bed  and  dress 
ing-table,  saying: 

"Polydore  tells  me  that  you  wish  nothing  said  about 
your  having  to  swim  the  river ;  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
we  will  see  that  nothing  is  known  of  it;  it  would 
frighten  and  distress  Mahse  Paul." 

"Thank  you,  Candace,  it  would  indeed."  The  woman 
helped  her  to  bed,  hovering  about  her  affectionately — 
put  on  some  useless  covering — put  out  the  light  and 
left  the  room. 


In  a  few  days  rumours  were  rife  in  the  neighbor 
hood.  The  incident  at  Repplier's  was  told  with  much 
elaboration;  Repplier,  himself,  supplying  the  first  in 
stallment,  and  in  no  wise  screening  Berenger  or  Mrs. 
Gaultier.  This  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  latter,  she 
replied,  spicily  alluding  to  Berenger's  having  re 
fused  to  take  her  to  the  festival  as  he  had  agreed  to 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  357 

do,  and  describing  the  insulting  manner  with  which 
he  had  ordered  a  servant  of  her  brother's  to  take  that 
"damned  rubbish"  out  of  his  dogcart — instantly!  at 
the  same  time,  kicking  some  of  the  parcels  into  the 
road.  Ending  each  repetition  of  the  story  by  assert 
ing  her  belief,  "that  there  was  much  more  between 
these  two,  than  appeared  on  the  surface." 

Some  of  this  reached  the  hearing  of  Berenger,  him 
self  ;  but  after  talking  with  Monroe,  he  found  that  ap 
parently  no  one  knew  anything  further  than  could  be 
learned  from  Mr.  Repplier;  which  was  that  Berenger, 
after  first  refusing,  had  returned  and  taken  Miss 
Bathurst  home — and  that  he — Repplier,  could  never 
again  have  respected  him,  had  he  done  otherwise. 

There  were  also  confused  stories  of  runaway  teams 
and  damaged  carts,  which  took  their  places  with  those 
of  washed  away  bath-houses,  chicken-coops,  and  other 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  river  and  the  storm. 

"But  the  belief  that  nothing  was  known  of  their 
movements,  after  the  scene  at  Roe's,  was  soon  dis 
pelled.  Ill  news  travels  fast.  Some  one, — also  be 
lated, — had  taken  refuge  in  one  of  the  sheds, — some 
distance  off ;  and  had  reported  such  particulars  as  had 
come  under  his  observation,  perforce,  for  he  was  one, 
who  would  never  stoop  to  pry  into  that  which  was  no 
concern  of  his;  nor  had  he  attached  any  importance 
to  the  fact  of  Mr.  Berenger  and  some  lady,  having 
taken  shelter  from  such  a  storm.  In  less  than  a  week, 
the  matter,  to  which  had  been  added  the  accumulation 
of  all  the  years  agone,  was  the  chief  topic  under  dis 
cussion,  by  those  whose  business  it  was  to  see  about 
everything  of  this  sort.  Felix  had  to  face  much  of 
the  same  kind  of  treatment,  to  which  she  had  been  in 
troduced,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  at  the  New 
Year's  ball; —  and  this  too  from  some  upon  whose 
friendship  and  support,  she  would  have  relied  until 
such  were  no  longer  needed. 

She  had  altered  greatly,  of  late.  Moving  restlessly 
about  the  house;  sometimes  working — changing  fit- 


358  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

fully,  from  one  occupation  to  another — her  music, 
her  drawing,  language  lessons,  or  sewing  upon  a  gar 
ment — never  finishing  anything  begun.  Quiet  only 
when  her  father  was  present — sitting  near  him  or  fol 
lowing  him  about  the  place,  talking  the  while  of  his 
business  affairs.  A  couple  of  weeks  after  the  storm, 
Mrs.  Liddell,  a  countrywoman,  of  Berenger's,  had  up 
braided  him,  charging  him  with  culpable  imprudence 
in  his  attitude  to  a  motherless  girl,  a  child  in  her  sweet 
simplicity  and  amiability — and  unprotected: — her 
father  not  appearing  to  count  in  the  verdict. 

"How  can  you  do  it!  You  are  twenty-six  or  seven 
years  old,  and  besides  you  have  the  worldly  experience 
which  marriage  gives  in  matters  of  this  sort.  How 
can  you  be  so  thoughtless?" 

"Thoughtless!"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  evasively  re 
fusing  to  meet  the  frankly  searching  and  confusing 
gaze  bent  upon  him.  Recovering,  he  answered: — "I 
have  of  late,  as  you  know,  been  very  unhappy ;  perhaps 
this  has  made  me  less  thoughtful  of  others." 

She  then  told  him  of  all  she  had  heard.  He  made  no 
reply  except  to  assure  her  that  he  would  be  more  care 
ful  in  future.  A  few  days  preceding  this  interview, 
there  had  been  a  meeting  of  the  choir;  the  place  of 
organist  was  again  vacant.  Several  names  had  been 
brought  up — names  of  those  competent  to  take  the 
place,  and  amongst  them  was  that  of  Miss  'Felix  Bath- 
urst.  Felix  never  knew  how  it  came  about — but  one 
of  the  most  shocking  things  told  to  Mr.  Berenger  at 
this  interview  with  Mrs.  Liddell,  was  that  Mrs.  Bent- 
ly  proposed  this  name. 

"But,  Mrs.  Bentley,"  said  Susannah  Crofts: — "you 
know,  that  Felix  will  not  take  this  place.  There  is 
no  use  in  proposing  her  name." 

"She  is  the  best  fitted  for  it ; — put  it  down,  and  we 
will  see  when  we  meet  next  Monday.  Perhaps  when 
she  finds  that  a  majroity  of  the  members  wish  it,  she 
will  agree." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  359 

"She  will  not.  The  Bathursts  are  going  to  leave  the 
country." 

"Now,  Archie,  what  this  means,  I  do  not  know,  but 
Susannah  came  to  me  after  the  meeting  was  over  and 
told  me  privately,  that  it  meant  nothing  good;  Mrs. 
Bentley  belonging  neither  to  our  church  nor  neighbor 
hood,  and  that  she  was  convinced  there  was  some  evil 
purpose  in  it." 

"Couldn't  you  have  her  name  withdrawn?" 

"I — hardly  know — wouldn't  an  interference  on  my 
part,  be  imprudent?" 

"Get  Monroe  to  do  it.  See  him  this  evening.  I  have 
heard  of  innocent  persons  of  both  sexes  driven  to  death 
or  ruin,  by  such  reckless  and  inhuman  persecution.  It 
is  playing  with  fire."  Such  a  warning,  coming  from 
one  like  Mrs.  Liddell — the  model  mother  of  a  large 
family  of  cheerful,  industrious  and  altogether  proper 
children,  had  its  weight  and  opened  his  eyes  as  nothing 
else  could  have  done,  to  the  possibility  of  harm  which 
sometimes  comes  when  wholly  unlocked  for,  and  yet 
the  natural  sequence  to  one's  own  lack  of  precaution. 
He  told  himself,  that  for  a  long  time  he  had  been  de 
ceiving  himself — falling  into  the  doctrine  of  those  who 
believe,  that  both  fortune  and  misfortune  are  due  to 
fate,  and  he  had  gone  on  indifferently,  not  caring 
specially  for  anything.  Since  his  reconciliation  with 
Felicia,  the  half-dormant  hopes  and  wishes  which  had 
once  animated  him,  and  of  which  were  born  his  love  of, 
and  his  energy  in  accumulating  wealth,  had  revived; 
and  he  had  begun  once  more  to  dream  of  the  home  he 
had  so  often  pictured  years  ago.  This  evening  after 
Mrs.  Liddell's  warning,  with  a  heart  discouraged, 
he  saw  himself  as  far  as  ever  away  from  the  attain 
ment  of  his  wishes ;  at  least,  so  he  feared.  His  lawyer 
had  thought  well  of  the  evidence  placed  before  him. 
"There  would  be  difficulties,  but  he  was  confident  they 
could  be  surmounted — especially — if  there  would  be 
no  opposition."  But  there  would  be  opposition.  "In 
that  case  it  might  be  only  a  question  of  time.  The 


360  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

other  obstacles  might  be  overcome,  if  not  too  strong 
ly  opposed; — the  strong  opposition  being  the  worst 
feature  yet  mentioned  in  the  case.  He  would  look  well 
into  it."  Berenger,  being  better  acquainted  with  the 
nature  and  strength  of  the  opposition,  was  not  so  con 
fident.  "So  they  were  talking  about  her."  Now  he 
would  have  a  private  interview  of  greater  length.  She 
had  asked  for  time  to  think: — it  had  been  a  couple  of 
weeks  since  their  meeting  at  Repplier's,  and  although 
they  had  met  several  times  by  appointment — twice  pri 
vately,  Felicia  had  seemed  to  shrink  from  all  allusion 
to  their  future  course ; — and  had  so  persistently  evaded 
all  direct  appeals  and  questions  to  this  end,  that  once 
or  twice  he  had  lost  his  temper,  and  had  given  his  pri 
vate  views,  in  a  way  that  frightened  her.  He  had  al 
most  come  to  question  his  right  to  independent  thought 
— the  wisdom  of  his  judgment  of  what  was  best  for 
her,  or  for  himself  for  that  matter.  He  would  rather 
she  were  not  so  sensitive  to  public  opinion.  But  he 
had  observed  that  universally  attractive  women  were 
oftenest  those  possessed  of  extreme  beauty  and  vivacity, 
and  this  same  pride  of  character — a  combination  which 
embraced  many  other  charming  characteristics,  rarely 
meeting  in  one  person.  If  he  could  only  prevent  the 
possibility  of  her  having  to  face  such  opprobrium  as 
was  dreaded  by  Mrs.  Liddell!  "I  would  take  her  to 
the  farthest  point  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe!  I 
thank  God  I  have  the  means."  A  feeling  of  impatience 
overcame  him  when  he  reflected  that  it  might  be  years, 
before  a  decision  was  reached ;  and  even  then  she  might 
refuse  to  marry  him  while  his  present  wife  was  living. 
At  this  point,  riotous  thoughts  would  arise  and  he  felt 
capable  of  the  worst: — or  what  she  would  call  the 
worst.  She  had  promised  to  consider  the  subject  of 
divorce — giving  him  to  understand  that  she  would  lay 
aside  any  previously  formed  ideas  of  it.  That  was  a 
step  forward.  But  would  she  lay  aside  all  prejudice 
or  would  she  cling  to  the  Pharisaical  and  bigoted  laws 
followed  by  those  who  had  made  up  her  little  world? 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  361 

Or  loving  him  as  she  did,  would  she  not  perforce,  bring 
the  power  of  her  splendid  intellect  to  bear  upon  the 
question?  Would  she  not  find  it  impossible  to  part 
from  him?  He  would  trust  to  that,  and  be  careful — 
remembering  how,  in  a  moment  of  ungovernable  pas 
sion,  he  had  been  converted  into  something  more  like 
an  unreasoning  brute  than  a  man.  He  would  govern 
his  temper  whatever  might  come — recalling  with  a 
pang,  her  pathetic  fear  of  wounding  his  feelings  or 
of  in  any  way  displeasing  him.  Laying  aside  his  ac 
count-book,  his  thoughts  grew  intolerable,  and  a  little 
after  sunset — knowing  that  the  Sanford's  little  teas, 
card-parties,  or  whatever  other  kind  of  hospitality 
they  might  offer  to  one  or  more  neighbors,  usually 
came  off  on  this  particular  day  of  the  week — he  would 
go  by,  and  if  the  house  were  lighted  up,  he  would  go 
in.  Felicia  might  be  there : — or  would  it  not  be  better 
to  go  at  once  to  her  home.  But  had  Bathurst  returned? 
He  felt  that  he  could  not  face  him; — for  though  feel 
ing  himself  to  be  in  the  right,  he  felt  the  insurmount 
able  difference  between  them — that  Paul  with  his 
strained  sense  of  honour  could  never  harbor  the 
thoughts  which  now  had  taken  possession  of  himself. 
He  had,  from  first  to  last,  regarded  the  entanglement 
with  Mrs.  Robinson  as  the  result  of  a  weakness  for 
which  he  could  not  help  feeling,  though  he  tried  not  to, 
a  feeling  of  contempt.  But  he  had  always  loved  him, 
not  alone  as  Felicia's  father,  but  as  one  whom  he  had 
hoped  to  always  count  among  his  friends.  He  had 
never  considered  the  rather  peculiar  influences  sur 
rounding  Felicia  in  her  childhood  and  early  woman 
hood  : — both  her  home  and  her  convent  training  leading 
to  the  same  result.  Indeed  he  had  thought  little  of 
her  family  life,  but  had  noted  her  strong  affection  for 
her  friends;  and  that  she  was  generally  beloved — her 
enemies  to  be  found  only  among  those  jealous  or  en 
vious  of  her  popularity.  Of  late  he  had  come  to  know 
that  her  love  for  her  near  relatives  amounted  to  a  pas- 


362  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

sion.  Added  to  this  was  a  family  pride  in  all  that 
concerned  them.  With  this  and  her  own  intense  pride 
of  character,  he  would  have  to  contend. 

At  their  last  meeting  she  had  told  him  that  the  men 
of  her  family  had  been  honourable — for  many  past 
generations,  and  that  no  woman  of  them  all,  had  ever 
disgraced  herself.  Her  pride  in  this — her  honest 
American  pride — was  extreme.  That  there  had  been 
beautiful  women  among  them,  and  men  who,  with 
other  honours  had  distinguished  themselves  in  battle, 
was  a  secondary  matter.  "What  if  she  proved  to  be  as 
Quixotic  as  her  father?" 

He  resolved  to  see  her  at  once — feeling  that  longer 
suspense  was  unendurable,  he  ordered  his  horse. 

Hastily  mounting,  he  soon  found  himself  at  Casa  de 
Campo.  In  front  of  the  Crofts'  cottage,  in  the  shadow 
of  a  large  hackberry  tree,  two  horses  were  standing 
unhitched — side  by  side.  Only  two  horses  in  all  the 
settlements  were  known  to  possess  this  accomplish 
ment.  A  little  to  the  right,  was  another,  wearing  a 
man's  saddle.  Almost  before  he  decided  what  to  do, 
Felicia  and  Susannah  appeared  in  the  lighted  doorway, 
and  several  men  and  boys  arose  out  the  shadows  of  the 
little  portico.  Berenger  rode  farther  out  of  sight  and 
waited.  Monroe  was  with  Felicia  and  Daisy,  but  it 
was  an  easy  matter  to  gain  the  young  lady's  side,  and 
fall  behind.  , 

"I  was  going  to  Sanford's  hoping  to  find  you  there. 
I  must  see  you  alone  to-night.  How  will  we  manage 
it?  Where  can  we  go?" 

"Not  at  the  same  place?"  she  inquired,  struck  by 
his  manner,  which  not  a  little  frightened  her. 

"No,  that  will  not  do;  no  one  must  know  of  it." 

"Why  not  come  to  the  house?" 

"Your  house?  No.  Can  you  not  think  of  some 
place  near  it,  where  we  wouldn't  be  observed." 

"At  what  hour?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  563 

"It  is  now  seven — at  least  as  late  as  ten.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  ask  you  this,  but  it  is  for  your  sake." 

"Couldn't  you  write  it?" 

"Hardly — it  would  take  an  hour's  interview  by  word 
of  mouth — and  it  is  necessary." 

Alarmed — she  asked  him — if  he  had  ever  been  on  the 
old  Las  Paredas  road.  It  crossed  the  main  high 
way  a  hundred  yards  above  her  home; — It  was  little 
travelled. 

"No,  but  I  can  find  it." 

"There  is,  if  you  will  come  to  the  right  when  you 
reach  this  cross-road,  a  large  boulder.  On  the  other 
side  there  is  what  appears  to  be  part  of  an  old  stone 
wall — known  as  the  'old  lime-kiln.'  " 

"Very  well,  I'll  be  there  when  you  come."  Calling 
out  a  good  night  to  them  all,  he  took  a  left  hand  fork 
of  the  road  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the 
night. 

Felix,  sitting  in  the  darkness  of  her  room,  waiting 
for  the  appointed  hour, — alone  with  her  bitter 
thoughts,  was  asking  herself  how  far  and  how  much 
she  had  been  to  blame.  And  if  there  could  be  no  way 
to  stop  these  clandestine  meetings.  "Clandestine!" 
The  very  word  itself,  was  offensive  to  her.  And  an 
other  was  the  word  "black  sheep."  Her  Huguenot 
grandmother  had  once  told  her  that  the  word  had  even 
a  worse  significance  in  French.  Just  now,  it  was  ap 
palling.  She  would  find  some  way  out  of  it.  She  might 
have  to  go  away  before  her  father  left  Texas  for  good. 
It  was  impossible  for  her  to  tell  her  father  or  anyone 
else,  anything  that  would  at  all  reflect  upon  Beren- 
ger's  honour — upon  his  character  in  any  shape.  She 
knew  just  what  her  father  would  think  of  this,  and 
she  would  not  do  or  say  anything  to  cloud  their  perfect 
friendship.  She  had  risen  and  was  walking  excitedly. 
Sitting  down  again,  with  her  head  bowed  on  the  little 
dressing-table — she  prayed — and  after  praying — again 
resumed  her  reveries.  The  result  was  that  she  could 
resolve  upon  no  definite  course  of  conduct. 


364  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

She  was  glad  her  father  was  absent.     She  did  not 
care  to  lay  the  full  weight  of  their  imprudence  upon 
Berenger, — that  was  not  her  nature.    Indeed,  whether 
intentionally  or  not,  the  burden  of  her  training  had 
been  that  women  alone  were  responsible  for  all  that 
was  decent,  moral  or  religious  in  the  world.    She  had 
somehow  absorbed  this  belief  and  she  did  not  blame 
Berenger  for  requiring  her  agreement  to  what  to  her 
seemed  degrading — the  old  love  and  idolatry  were  still 
to  the  fore.    If  changed  at  all,  it  was  surely  undimin- 
ished.    The  question  had  come  up  in  the  last  few  days 
as  to  the  wisdom  of  her  reply,  when  in  his  masterful 
way  he  had  told  her  to  declare  that  she  had  never  loved 
him.    Why  had  she  not  lied  then*! — he  would  have  re 
turned  to  his  family.    She  had  felt  then,  that  she  could 
not  and  would  not  deceive  him — of  all  people  in  the 
world.     She  still  had  this  feeling — and  also  that  she 
would  not  disobey  him.    Knowing  this,  would  it  not  be 
best  to  keep  out  of  his  way?    He  was  a  "laxist."    Mon 
roe,  who  knew  him  best  and  loved  him,  had  told  her 
this.    She  had  read  of  persons  of  note — in  exalted  and 
responsible  positions,  in  England  and  other  foreign 
countries,  who  were  content  and  sometimes  even  proud 
of  these  illegal  unions — Morganatic  and  other  irregular 
forms  of  marriage;  and  of  the  heirs  of  which,  who  in 
after  years  would  boast  of  their  descent  from  such  an 
infamous  beginning.    Once  she  decided  she  would  not 
go.    He  had  promised  at  the  hut  that  they  would,  hence 
forth,  pass  each  other  by  as  mere  acquaintances  until 
— legally  free — he  could  claim  her  hand  as  his  reward 
for  long  and  patient  waiting.    Her  father  would  per 
haps  not  be  able  to  leave  Texas  until  November.    That 
was  better  for  her.     She  would  leave  as  soon  as  she 
could  frame  an  excuse  and  think  of  a  plan  by  which 
to  accomplish  her  flitting.     She  feared  that  Berenger 
might  at  any  time  propose  an  elopement,  there  were 
hints  of  such  a  purpose  at  their  last  meeting.    As  far 
as  she  herself  was  concerned,  nothing  would  much  mat 
ter,   but   she   never  would   be  the  cause  of  shame  to 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  365 

others.  They  were  all  so  proud  of  her.  It  must  not 
come,  this  ruin,  through  her.  Her  darling  father  and 
Daisy — Basil  and  Uncle  Darius.  Uncle  Darius,  in  her 
eyes  a  man  without  a  superior  in  the  world.  Her  shame, 
she  knew,  would  fall  heaviest  upon  the  male  members 
of  the  family — and  the  thoughts  of  her  grandmother 
and  Aunt  Sarah ;  they  would  look  upon  her  as  a  repro 
bate;  and  strange  to  say,  that,  if  in  the  extremity  of 
disgrace  she  should  ever  fall,  there  appeared  only  one 
woman  in  all  the  world  to  whom  she  would  or  might 
appeal  for  sympathy  or  aid.  That  woman  was  her 
Aunt  Aurelia.  The  time  appointed  drawing  near,  she 
arose  softly  and  lighting  a  match  looked  at  her  watch ; 
she  had  ten  minutes.  Assuring  herself  that  all  had 
gone  to  rest,  she  closed  the  door,  not  going  out  at  the 
gate,  but  springing  lightly  over  the  low  fence  some  dis 
tance  above,  she  walked  in  its  shadow  until  the  road 
changing  course,  took  her  into  an  opposite  direction.  A 
few  minutes  brought  her  face  to  face  with  Berenger. 

"Have  I  kept  you  waiting?" 

"Not  long.  I  have  been  reconnoitering.  My  horse  is 
in  that  thicket.  I  have  found  a  place  where  we  can  sit 
down  free  from  bugs  and  thorns,"  said  he,  going  nearer 
the  lime  kiln,  a  little  off  the  road. 

"Now,  Mr.  Berenger,  tell  me  quickly  what  it  is." 

"I  will  speak  of  what  is  most  important  first.  Have 
you  any  idea  of  accepting  the  position  of  organist  at 
the  Episcopal  church? — I  suppose  you  know  your  name 
is  on  the  list  of  applicants?" 

"I  haven't  even  heard  of  it,  and  nothing  could  induce 
me  to  accept  it." 

"Then  I  will  get  Monroe  to  withdraw  your  name. 
Mrs.  Liddell  did  not  believe  you  had  authorized  it.  It 
is  Mrs.  Bentley's  work,  prompted  by  an  evil  motive,  I 
feel  assured,  and  intended  in  some  way  to  expose  you 
to  insult.  I'll  have  Monroe  withdraw  your  name  to 
morrow.  This,  amongst  other  things  of  the  same  kind, 
make  it  a  matter  of  necessity —  that  we  have  a  long 
talk  about  ourselves."  Here  ensued  a  conversation  as 


366 


they  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  road,  which  lasted 
for  nearly  an  hour;  all  being  spoken  earnestly  and  in 
low  tones ;  until  at  last  Berenger  said  impatiently  in  an 
swer  to  his  companion. 

"We  may  as  well  have  it  out,  Felix.  Come  off  the 
road  before  some  wayfarer  chances  to  come  this  way, 
and  adds  his  tale  to  the  general  public  budget.  Let  us 
find  a  seat."  Seated,  they  again  quickly  renewed  the 
discussion.  The  man  remonstrating  in  pleading  tones, 
sometimes  changing  to  those  more  positive — the  girl 
replying  gently,  in  short  phrases  or  monosyllables ;  un 
til  at  last  as  if  overcome  with  despair  at  her  refusals 
to  agree  with  his  wishes,  he  took  off  his  hat  and  threw 
it  upon  the  grass  at  his  feet ;  and  bowing  his  head  and 
covering  his  face  with  both  hands — was  silent.  She 
too,  sat  with  bowed  head.  At  length  he  again  sat  erect, 
saying : — 

"It  is  plain  enough,  Felix.  I  know  that  you  love  me, 
but  there  are  others  that  hold  a  higher  and  better  place 
in  your  heart,  and  perhaps  more  worthily  than  I  do  a 
lower  one.  I've  always  wanted  to  be  loved  in  every 
sense  of  the  word — in  the  highest  and  best  sense  of  that 
word  which  stands  for  the  feeling  which  ought  to  unite 
a  man  and  his  wife.  I  have  always  had  that  feeling 
in  full  for  one  woman — and  only  one.  I  am  sorry  to 
see  the  lack  of  it  here ; — both  surprised  and  sorry" — he 
added  with  something  like  a  sob  in  his  voice.  She  was 
at  his  side  almost  before  he  was  done  speaking.  The 
moonlight  falling  upon  his  forehead,  seemed  in  its 
sharp  contraction,  to  intensify  the  expression  of  pain 
shown  by  the  attitude  of  the  whole  figure.  She  bent 
over  him ;  tenderly  resting  her  hands  upon  his  should 
ers,  she  pressed  her  cheek  to  the  bowed  head — then  put 
ting  back  the  soft  hair  caressingly,  she  asked: — 

"Do  you  remember  when  you  told  me  good  bye,  before 
you  went  to  Canada?" 

"I  do,"  taking  one  of  her  hands  in  both  his.  "There, 
do  not  move  your  arm."  But" — reflectively — "didn't 
I  ask  you  that  same  question  once?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  367 

"You  did,"  said  Felix.  "With  a  different  motive, 
however.  I  could  not  answer  you  at  the  time.  You 
asked  me,  I  think,  if  I  cared.  I  will  now  tell,  if  pos 
sible,  how  much  I  cared.  So  much  that  I  wanted  to 
live  just  so  long  as  my  mother  lived;  but  only  for  a 
while.  As  soon —  as  soon  as  possible,  I  brought  to 
mind  the  teachings  of  others  wiser  than  myself  and 
tried  to  live  like  a  Christian.  When  you  said  you  were 
going  to  Canada  I  knew  what  it  meant — and  coming 
so  abruptly — I  came  near  losing  all  self-control  for  a 
minute  or  two.  You  have  told  me  that  you  noticed  it; 
but  I  think  no  one  at  home  ever  knew  or  thought  of 
the  truth." 

"As  to  loving  you,  Archie,  I  have  never  thought  of 
loving  anyone  else.  But  I  would  hate  to  tell  you  of  all 
my  wicked  thoughts  and  feelings,  both  before  and  after 
you  brought  home  your  bride.  Throughout  all  this 
time,  I  never  even  dreamed  of  the  possibility  of  your 
loving  me.  But  you — you  have  told  me  that  you  loved 
me  then — why  did  you  leave  me?" 

"'From  a  sense  of  duty  and  honour,  Felix.  From  a 
wish  to  do  what  would  most  please  my  father ;  to  fulfill 
an  agreement  made  by  him.  I  wrote  and  tried  to  get 
release  from  a  bargain  I  never  helped  to  make — but — " 

"Don't  go  any  further.  You  loved  me  dearly,  but 
still  you  gave  another  woman  my  place.  Your  position 
then  was  precisely  what  mine  is  now — only  that  your 
place  will  not  be  given  to  another.  But  if  possible  I, 
acting  also  from  a  sense  of  honour,  will  not  disgrace 
those  who  love  me  and  are  even  proud  of  me."  She 
left  him,  and  having  returned  to  her  seat,  sobbed  miser 
ably.  "You  did  this, — knowing  that  I  loved  you." 

"You  have  brought  my  mistaken  words  and  deeds 
home  to  me,  darling,"  he  said.  Kneeling  at  her  feet 
and  taking  her  hands  in  his,  he  promised  that  he  would 
not  again  attempt  to  force  her  to  act  against  her  will, 
but  would  always  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  do  what 
might  seem  best  for  both. 


368  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

Seated  beside  her,  when  both  had  become  calmer, 
he  told  her  that  he  had  consulted  his  lawyer  upon 
the  propriety  of  himself  bringing  suit  for  divorce, 
something  he  had  felt  a  reluctance  to  do,  upon  such  pre 
text  as  he  was  able  to  bring  forward;  but  his  counsel 
was  of  the  opinion  that  he  had  ample  ground.  He  felt 
cheered ;  although  it  might  be  a  year  or  two  before  any 
thing  could  be  accomplished. 

Thus  the  moments  went  by.  So  enwrapped  were  they 
in  their  mutual  love  and  sorrow  that  the  beautiful  scene 
around  and  above  them,  was  by  both  alike  unheeded. 
The  Queen  of  the  skies — the  moon — now  in  her  first 
quarter — a  perfect  crescent — luminous — dazzling — was 
moving  grandly  on  her  way  among  myriads  of  stars, 
sailing  with  slow  majesty  across  the  magnificent 
firmament.  Hours  became  as  minutes.  Oblivious  to 
all  this  loveliness  they  talked  on.  Berenger  now  in 
tones  no  longer  peremptory  but  tender  and  caressing. 

The  moon  had  finished  her  circuit,  and  was  disap 
pearing  in  the  distant  horizon.  Light  fleeting  clouds 
rendered  still  more  dim  the  soft  brightness  of  the  stars. 
It  was  the  dead  hour  of  mid-night  before  Berenger 
realized  that  time  he  had  named  as  the  limit,  had  long 
gone  by: — and  yet — .  They  were  seated  on  a  grass- 
covered  boulder  near  a  high  pile  of  stones  which  had 
been  laid  one  upon  another  with  the  regularity  of  a 
wall.  This  had  given  away  and  fallen  at  one  end,  near 
which  could  be  found  a  once  deep  but  now  partially 
filled  shaft,  the  origin  of  which  was  a  mystery  to  the 
oldest  inhabitant;  and  there  was  no  authority  to  be 
found  for  the  name  by  which  it  was  known.  "The  Old 
Lime  Kiln."  On  the  other  side  of  this  almost  unused 
cross-road  was  "The  Boulder," — almost  as  large  as  a 
hut,  looking,  in  the  dimness  like  the  back  of  a  huge 
whale.  This  had  a  background  of  chaparral.  From 
this,  now  proceeded  a  crackling  sound,  and  a  small  gray 
owl  came  out  of  it; — making  his  low,  wobbly  flight 
across  the  road; — then  rising,  he  flew  over  the  heads 
of  the  couple,  nearly  brushing  them  with  his  wings, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  369 

continuing  his  course  in  a  winding,  serpentine  way  out 
into  the  prairie  beyond.  They  stood  up.  A  dog  came 
into  the  road  and  smelling  along  the  ground,  ran  up  to 
Felix  in  joyous  welcome.  Berenger  was  looking  intent 
ly  in  the  direction  of  the  big  boulder.  He  picked  up  his 
quirt  and  in  a  few  strides  stood  on  a  projecting  ledge  of 
the  big  stone ;  stooping  over,  he  lashed  something  skulk 
ing  there — making  three  or  four  telling  cuts  with  the 
whip.  A  little  dark  figure  leaped  out  and  ran  down  the 
road,  and  dodged  into  the  bushes.  "Who  was  it  do  you 
think?"  he  asked  of  Felix.  "I  wonder  if  that  dog  came 
with  him."  A  blow  aimed  at  the  dog,  sent  him  flying 
after  his  owner.  It  was  Polydore's  little  dog,  Flop. 

"I  wonder  how  long  he  had  been  there?" 

"I  think  since  the  owl  flew  past  us;  probably  not  be 
fore,"  answered  Felix,  amused  in  spite  of  herself.  "It 
may  have  been  some  negro  out  hunting." 

"Why,  Felix,  its  near  one  o'clock !  I  will  go  with  you 
to  your  gate."  Leading  his  horse,  he  walked  with  her 
until  in  full  view  of  the  house. 

"I  will  wait  here  until  you  go  in."  Standing  on  the 
high  portico  she  waved  her  handkerchief,  and  waiting, 
saw  him  ride  off  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  clicking  of  the  key  in  the  lock  told  that  the  house 
was  closed;  then  out  from  a  clump  of  banana  trees  in 
the  front  yard,  issued  the  dark  form  of  a  negro — who 
gliding  along  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees  and  house, 
moved  stealthily  to  a  jacal  in  the  rear  and  tapped  gent 
ly  on  a  door,  which  opened  and  a  woman  came  out.  To 
gether  they  walked  noiselessly  until  far  out  among  the 
stumps  of  a  new-ground  field,  they  chose  a  clear  spot 
and  sat  down  on  the  ground. 

"It  was  him,  Candace— sho  nuff — jes  as  I  tol'  you  it 
was."  The  woman  clasping  her  knees  with  her  hands, 
bowed  her  head  and  sobbed. 

"Doan  you  cry,  Candace.  I  doan  think  it's  bad — leas' 
it's  not  so  bad  as  you  feared  it  is.  I  didn't  git  dere  as 
quick  as  I  wanted  to.  It  was  midnight  before  I  got  dere. 
But  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was." 


370  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  did  jus'  like  you  tol'  me — I  travel  in  de  bushes, 
jus'  close  enuff  to  de  road  to  see  dat  no  hahm  come  to 
her — an'  dat's  how  I  come  to  lose  sight  ob  her.  You 
know  she  had  a  half -hour  de  staht  ob  me.  I  went  to  de 
place  where  dey  met  befoh,  but  dere  wahn't  nobody 
dere.  So  I  takes  de  main  road  an'  I  goes  so  far  dat  I 
know  I'm  wrong.  Den  1  comes  back  an'  finds  'em  at  de 
'Boulder.'  It  was  de  same  one  we  thought  it  was.  1 
made  sho'  ob  dat.  I  saw  him  plain — an'  I  saw  de 
hawse." 

He  told  her  how  tired  he  was.  And  how — when  he 
went  up  closer  to  be  sure  who  the  man  was — that  the 
man  (he  never  once  called  him  by  name)  struck  him 
with  a  riding-whip,  and  that  he  flew. 

"You  did  not  make  a  noise,  did  you,  Polydore?  You 
did  not  call  out  so  that  Miss  Felicia  would  know  it  was 
you?" 

"No,  I  didn't  make  no  noise — I  flew — I  tell  you. 
Tired  as  I  was — I  flew  down  de  road.  I  didn't  keer 
for  de  whip.  You  tol'  me  to  keep  out  ob  sight — an'  I 
kep'  out  ob  sight,  but  I  didn't  gib  up  my  duty.  I  turned 
back  an'  stay  at  more  distance,  'till  de  chile  come  in  de 
house  an'  wave  her  hangcher,  an'  he  raise  his  hat — an' 
thank  Gawd,  go  home." 

They  sat  silent  many  minutes — so  silent — that  they 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  two  of  the  charred  and 
blackened  stumps  surrounding  them. 

"Come,  Polydore,  God  will  take  care  of  Mis'  Andrea's 
child." 


371 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Berenger  had  touched  so  lightly  upon  the  subject  of 
the  organist,  and  turned  so  quickly  to  another,  that 
Felicia  could  not  at  first  realize  the  bearing  the  former 
might  have  upon  the  latter.  Why  had  she  not  asked 
him  more  particularly  what  had  been  said!  She  had 
on  first  entering  her  room,  thrown  herself  upon  her 
bed  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief  at  what  he  himself  had  said, 
when  speaking  of  the  many  obstacles  in  the  way  of  their 
happiness. 

She  had  as  she  had  promised  him,  given  a  great  deal 
of  time  to  the  study  of  the  laws  of  marriage  and  divorce. 
She  had  considered  the  latter  subject  from  both  a  moral 
and  religious  basis — and  she  had  also  led  her  father 
to  express  his  ideas  upon  these  topics.  No  man  could 
have  more  comprehensive  ones — and  no  man  could  ex 
press  them  more  coherently.  The  result  was  that  Fe 
licia  found  her  first  impressions,  in  part  at  least,  con 
firmed.  Still  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  be  con 
trolled  unduly  by  any  opinion  gained  from  reading  or 
hearing  the  opinions  of  others  upon  so  grave  a  ques 
tion,  but  would  live  arid  learn.  This  she  had  told  her 
lover  who  had  listened  with  restrained  impatience. 
They  might  as  well  part  at  once.  It  was  no  use  to  re 
peat  what  he  had  told  her  in  the  hut — what  he  thought 
about  it — but  he  would  say  again — over  again — that 
there  might  be  more  harm  in  one  certain  kind  of  mar 
riage  than  in  a  half-dozen  elopements.  And  when  he 
asked  Felicia,  whether  or  not  she  would  marry  him 
after  being  divorced — she  had  replied  equivocally,  that 
such  marriages  were  to  be  preferred  to  elopements.  She 
was  thinking  how  dear  he  was — how  inexpressibly 
dear!  How  well  he  knew  this,  and  the  unbounded  in- 


372  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

f luence  it  gave  him !  If  he  had  been  less  of  a  man  or 
loved  her  less,  he  might  have  followed  his  bent  in  mat 
ters  of  this  kind.  She  had  been  afraid  of  him  ever 
since  he  had  kissed  her.  He  had  laughingly  told  her 
that  at  any  time  he  might  repeat  the  offence;  but  he 
had  never  repeated  the  offence. 

Felicia  thought  of  this  to-night.  But  would  it  al 
ways  be  so?  Would  he  not  ask  for  another  of  these 
very  improper  and  dangerous  meetings?  Heretofore 
the  excuses  for  them  seemed  to  have  been  urgent.  His 
presence  was  due  in  the  West ;  but  this  evening  he  had 
told  her,  that  he  was  unwilling  to  leave,  knowing  "what 
kind  of  a  storm  was  hovering  over  their  heads — worse 
by  a  'long  shot,'  than  the  one  which  had  brought  it 
about."  Not  that  he  cared. 

It  was  only  for  her  sake ;  he  would  not  lift  a  hand  for 
his  own;  but  Mrs.  Liddell  had  given  him  "a  fright." 
Why — why  had  she  not  asked  him  what  Mrs.  Liddell 
really  said !  She  also  began  to  realize  that  day  by  day 
their  separation  was  growing  more  unbearable.  In 
spite  of  her  silent  protest,  he  continued  to  speak  of  her 
as  his  affianced  wife ;  although  she  had  never  said  out 
right  that  she  would  marry  him.  She  could  not — it 
would  both  anger  and  grieve  him :  and  besides,  she  did 
not  know  herself,  what  her  final  decision  would  be. 
But  she  would  put  a  stop  to  this  perilous  intercourse — 
she  would  do  it  now !  She  would  begin  by  getting  her 
things  together  for  packing.  She  looked  at  her  watch 
— it  was  past  two  o'clock. 

"I  am  losing  my  senses !"  she  exclaimed  aloud.  After 
going  regularly  to  bed  she  continued  to  ponder  on  her 
future  course  of  action. 

It  was  this: — First — ask  her  father  to  allow  her  to 
visit  her  aunt  at  New  Orleans — awaiting  him  there, 
as  whether  with  good  or  bad  luck,  his  return  to  South 
Carolina  was  now  a  certainty.  There  was  no  need  of 
her  presence  here  in  the  short  interval  now  remain 
ing.  She  felt  assured  of  her  father's  consent.  Daisy 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTB  373 

would  be  with  him.  Daisy  had  almost  outgrown  his 
boyhood,  and  might  be  called  a  youth.  He  and  his 
father  had  of  late  become  inseparable.  By  leaving  ex 
plicit  directions  concerning  everything  necessary,  there 
need  be  no  trouble  in  the  final  moving  of  their  effects. 

Compelled  to  go  to  the  church  to  get  her  music,  she 
preferred  to  go  when  it  might  be  empty  of  humanity; 
but  wishing  to  take  a  loving  farewell — look  at  all  creat 
ures  and  things  animate  and  inanimate,  with  which  her 
past  seven  years  of  life  had  made  her  familiar,  she 
desired  especially  to  see  again  the  interior  of  the  pretty 
little  building  in  which  she  so  often  had  met  her  friends. 
It  would  be  the  nearest  thing  to  parting  with  them  in 
person.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day — Satur 
day — was  the  time  chosen.  Paul  and  Daisy  were  sure 
to  be  in  from  the  west  on  that  day. 

Some  way  must  be  found  to  let  Berenger  know  of  her 
intention.  Besides  these  and  her  two  beloved  old  ser 
vants,  no  others  need  to  told  that  she  was  never  coming 
back.  Thinking  of  leaving  on  Monday,  she  fell  asleep. 

Gossip  may  be  good-natured,  mischievous  or  malici 
ous,  or  it  may  be  all  three.  In  this  case  it  was  all  three 
— for  Felix  had  friends,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  follow 
ing  colloquy  which  took  place  after  the  choir  of  St. 
Andrew's  church  had  finished  their  rehearsal  of  the 
music  required  on  the  following  Sunday. 

Laura  Ridley  was  speaking. 

"I  wonder  why  'Felix  didn't  come  to-day,  her  name 
was  on  the  list  of  applicants  for  the  place  of  organist. 
She  plays  better  than  any  of  us,  and  will  be  most  apt 
to  get  it.  Many  persons  are  interested  in  the  voting." 

"She  doesn't  want  it  and  her  name  was  withdrawn 
by  her  own  request — Monroe  acted  for  her,  and  said 
also  that  she  did  not  even  know  her  name  had  been  pro 
posed  until  someone  told  her  of  it,"  said  Susannah 
Crofts.  "I,  for  one  rejoice  that  she  withdrew  it;  not 
that  I  wanted  it  again,  but  that  it  would  give  those 
interested  persons  a  chance  to  insult  her ;  their  interest 
will  cease,  when  they  find  she  is  not  an  applicant." 


374  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Perhaps  she's  heard  the  latest  news  given  by  the 
talented  Daily  Observer  and  Reporter,  Mr.  Nordhouse, 
and  is  afraid  to  come,"  said  Laura  Ridley.  "Of  course 
there  wasn't  a  mite  of  harm  in  it ;  any  one  would  have 
run  under  any  shelter  to  get  out  of  that  rain.  Mr. 
Rogers  saw  them  go  in  there — into  the  old  Mexican 
hut.  He  was  under  the  shed  farthest  back  and  stayed 
there  until  the  storm  blew  over." 

"What  did  Mrs.  Lindsay  say  about  it?"  asked  Sus 
annah. 

"What  could  she  say? — They  did  it,"  laughed  Laura. 

"Mr.  Rogers  couldn't  leave  on  account  of  the  con 
tinued  rain  until  ten  o'clock  and  they  were  still  there. 
Berenger's  horses  were  tied  under  another  shed.  I 
told  Felix  the  various  yarns  I  had  heard  and  asked  her 
to  tell  me  the  straight  of  it  but  she  said  she  had  noth 
ing  to  tell;  she  believed  the  facts  were  already  known." 

"Poor  child !"  said  Mrs.  Canf ield.  "Perhaps  she  has 
heard  of  the  construction  put  upon  it  and  how  some 
people  are  talking  about  it  and  won't  condescend  to  ex 
plain: — I  wouldn't  if  I  were  in  her  place.  It  is  just 
what  everybody  or  anybody  would  do  in  a  storm.  Mr. 
Rogers  sought  shelter,  Mr.  Berenger  did  the  same. 
There  is  nothing  left  to  tell,  and  I  hope  she  will  treat 
all  inquiries  for  further  information  with  the  contempt 
they  deserve.  But  I  must  say  that  I  consider  it  an  un 
fortunate  occurrence." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Canf  ield,  how  well  you  put  it;  and  what 
a  question  to  ask!  How  could  anyone  answer 
anything  so  absurd — there's  nothing  to  be  answered 
— it  stormed — they  ran  to  shelter — Mr.  Berenger  went 
— Felix  went  with  him.  There  can't  be  a  question  of 
propriety  in  a  case  like  that.  We  think  well  of  Mr. 
Berenger  at  our  house,  and  I — prudent  Miss  Crofts, 
would  have  done  the  same." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Miss  Crofts,"  said  Mrs. 
Lindsay,  who  had  come  in  while  Susannah  was  speak 
ing.  "I've  heard  some  queer  stories  about  them.  Mrs. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  375 

Bentley's  brother,  Neil  Boyd,  said  in  plain  language 
and  in  a  public  place,  before  a  crowd  of  men,  that  his 
brother  Sam  had  heard  Berenger  just  the  same  as  ask 
her  to  elope  with  him,  and  I  heard  that  Billy  Monroe 
knocked  him  down  for  saying  it.  It  was  hushed  up 
and  was  not  generally  known." 

"I  heard  that,  and  also  that  Felix  did  not  speak  to 
him  for  months  afterwards,  and  Repplier  says  she 
refused  to  ride  in  his  dog-cart  the  day  of  the  storm — 
also  that  Berenger  at  first  refused  to  take  her  in. 
They  had  evidently  quarreled — and  Laura,  I  don't 
think  we  care  to  stay  and  hear  Felix  talked  about  like 
this.  Let  us  go,"  said  Miss  Crofts,  loyally. 

"Don't  go,  I  certainly  mean  no  harm — many  of  our 
neighbors  blame  her  far  more  severely  than  I  do.  As 
you  say,  before  they  quarreled,  it  was  a  common  thing 
for  the  young  men  of  the  lower  neighborhood  to  speak 
of  them  as  'the  inseparables'  and  many  of  the  older 
people  in  the  same  district  believe  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  this  girl,  the  Berengers  would  have  still  been 
living  together.  Everyone  knows  what  Mrs.  Beren 
ger  thought  of  her.  And  when  you  come  to  review 
their  behavior  for  the  past  five  years,  you  are  bound 
to  admit  they  laid  themselves  liable  to  censure;  for 
no  matter  where  they  happened  to  meet — at  dance, 
dinner  or  party  of  any  sort,  never  doing  or  saying  an 
imprudent  thing,  perhaps,  yet  they  were  always  to 
gether.  The  young  men  accused  him  of  monopolising 
Miss  Bathurst,  and  some  women,  of  a  certain  class, 
were  jealous  of  his  evident  preference  for  her  society. 
This  was  after  his  marriage  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
there  was  a  warmer  feeling  than  friendship  between 
them  before  that  period." 

"No  one  can  tell  about  the  preference ; — it  may  have 
been  like  that  which  exists  between  friends  of  the 
same  sex — as  between  two  men  who  are  friends,"  said 
Mrs.  Canfield. 

"Yes,  I  know  how  that  is;  but  underlying  this  out 
ward  appearance  of  propriety,  and  it  didn't  take  a  close 


376  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

observer  to  find  it,  was  an  air  of  ownership,  visible  in 
the  whole  expression  and  manner  of  both— rwherever 
or  whenever  they  happened  to  meet,  and  their  open 
defiance  of  public  opinion,  was  a  shame  in  itself,  and 
should  be  as  openly  rebuked.  For  my  part  I  do  not 
think  Miss  Bathurst  a  proper  companion  for  girls — 
for  very  young  girls." 

"Then  your  righteous  decision  excepts  those  of  my 
age ;  you  and  me,  Miss  Crofts, — for  we  are  both  twenty 
one — the  age  of  discretion — the  age  at  which  men  are 
allowed  to  vote,  and  in  other  ways  do  as  they  please. 
But  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  speak  so  confidently  about 
the  lower  neighborhood,  Mrs.  Lindsay, — not  living  in 
it.  I  know  all  the  young  men — whose  sentiments  you 
quote  in  such  a  wholesale  way1,  and  I  know  Mrs.  Ber- 
enger.  Mrs.  Berenger,  as  almost  everyone,  who  has 
been  much  in  her  company,  can  guess,  is  a  woman  of 
an  extremely  jealous  nature;  and  all  of  us  who  have 
come  to  the  age  of  twenty-one,  know  how  that  passion 
warps  the  judgment." 

"It  is  the  opinion  of  the  whole  county — "  persisted 
Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"Hush!"  said  Miss  Crofts,  in  a  warning  voice. 

"Do  you  really  believe  what  you  say — that  these  two 
persons  should  be  publicly  rebuked  ?  If  you  do,  I  want 
to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you,"  said  Miss  Ridley, 
angrily. 

Again  Susannah  warned  them. 

Between  the  organ  and  the  door  behind  it,  which 
opened  on  the  upper  outside  porch  and  stair-way,  stood 
a  rack,  upon  which  for  some  reason,  had  been  hung 
some  church  vestments;  these  partially  screened  the 
doorway.  Seeing  Susannah's  glance  in  that  direction, 
they  all  with  one  accord,  looked  and  saw  the  pale  face 
and  slender  figure  of  Felicia.  She  stood  hesitating  for 
a  few  moments,  then  coming  forward,  responded  to 
the  greetings  of  those  nearest  to  her. 

"I  came  for  my  music,"  she  explained. 


OR  THE;  INVISIBLE  ROUTE  377 

Mrs.  Canf ield,  Misses  Crofts  and  Ridley  shook  hands 
with  her,  and  began  to  sort  the  music — picking  out  the 
pieces  marked  with  her  name.  When  Mrs.  Canfield, 
with  motherly  officiousness,  had  rolled  up  the  music 
and  put  it  in  the  leather  case  which  had  been  brought 
to  hold  it,  she  asked: — 

"Will  you  be  at  church  to-morrow,  Felix?" 

"I  think  I  will,"  she  answered,  holding  out  her  hand 
in  farewell;  then  bidding  Susannah  and  Laura,  good 
bye — left  the  room. 

"She  heard  you,"  said  Miss  Crofts,  looking  reproach 
fully  at  Mrs.  Lindsay. 

"It  does  not  in  the  least  matter,"  was  the  answer. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  that  stone  will  come  hurling  back 
some  day?"  asked  Laura  Ridley,  sneeringly. 

"The  trait  that  caused  its  throwing  does  not  belong 
to  my  family." 

"Your  family !  We  have  your  word  for  that.  Come 
away,  Susie  Crofts,  before  I  knock  somebody  down." 

Miss  Crofts  gave  way  to  irrepressible  laughter, 
thinking  they  had  the  best  of  it. 


As  said  before,  without  any  definite  plans,  Felix  had 
decided  to  leave. 

With  the  morning  came  cooler  deliberation.  The 
resolution  of  the  night  before  must  be  carried  out,  but 
there  was  no  cause  for  such  haste.  A  day  of  two  later 
might  be  best  after  all.  Candace,  when  told,  had  the 
look  of  one  relieved  of  a  heavy  burden,  and  began  im 
mediately  to  pack  the  trunks  and  boxes.  When  Paul 
returned  in  the  afternoon,  Felicia  at  once  told  him  the 
cause  of  the  unusual  cheerful  bustle  and  confusion 
which  reigned  in  the  house.  He  readily  agreed  to  her 
wishes — saying  it  was  a  happy  thought;  for  he  had 
been  much  concerned  of  late  about  the  prolonged  and 
unavoidable  absense  of  both  himself  and  Daisy  at  cer 
tain  times;  the  necessity  for  which  would  become 


378  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

greater  with  the  coming  of  cooler  weather.  Carrying  out 
her  design  of  the  night  before,  she  went  to  the  church 
quite  late  in  the  afternoon,  with  the  unexpected  result 
already  described. 

As  soon  as  she  regained  the  power  of  thought,  Felix 
resolved  that  instant  action  was  imperative.  She  must 
see  Berenger  again.  She  could  better  manage  an  in 
terview  by  meeting  him  at  church.  She  would  part 
with  him  there — not  permitting  him  to  know  it  was 
the  end.  Yes — it  would  be  the  end.  The  words  of 
Mrs.  Lindsay  seemed  to  be  branded  in  letters  of  fire 
upon  her  conscience.  To  her  mind  they  were  repre 
sentative  of  the  already  formed  opinion  of  the  com 
munity  at  large,  with  but  few  exceptions.  Mrs.  Lid- 
dell,  always  kind,  always  wise — must  have  felt  the 
magnitude  of  the  offense,  when  she  took  Berenger  to 
task;  she  judged  this  much  when  he  told  her  that  Mrs. 
Liddell  had  given  him  "a  fright."  Suppose  that,  by  some 
means  they  were  both  publicly  denounced !  Mrs.  Lind 
say  would  approve  it.  And  others?  Was  not  the  elec 
tion  of  an  organist  by  popular  vote  a  scheme  for  some 
such  purpose?  The  thought  sent  her  wild  for  a  minute 
or  two.  She  must  see  and  caution  him  about  many 
things.  What  matter  if  it  created  further  gossip — 
more  or  less  of  that  was  no  longer  of  any  consequence. 
Impatient  of  delay  she  could  not  sleep.  When  morn 
ing  came  she  found  that  neither  her  father  nor  Daisy 
would  go  to  church.  Dressing  carefully,  she  went 
alone.  Coming  in  sight  of  the  church,  she  said  to  her 
self — "An  ordeal!  But  it  will  be  the  last.  Not  that 
I  wish  it,  but  apart  from  all  wishes  and  thoughts  there 
comes  to  me  a  feeling  that  I  will  never  again  enter 
these  walls."  It  was  possible  she  might  see  Berenger 
before  the  morning  service  was  begun.  Miss  Sanford, 
who  liked  to  be  on  hand  early,  on  account  of  her  lame 
ness,  was  seated  in  her  pew,  as  she  always  liked  to  be 
before  the  congregation  assembled.  Mrs.  Andrews 
just  then  coming  in,  they  walked  together  up  the  aisle 
and  took  seats  also  in  the  Sanford  pew.  Their  brother, 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  379 

who  had  just  arrived  from  Virginia  was  with  them. 
Almost  immediately  after  introducing  him  and  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Andrews  invited  Felicia,  her  father  and  Kaspar 
to  meet  them  at  dinner  the  next  day.  There  would 
also  be  present  Mr.  and  Miss  McDonald — friends  of 
Miss  Sanford  and  of  her  former  governess,  Miss 
Boling. 

"Elinor,  tell  Felix  about  the  McDonalds,"  said  Miss 
Sanford,  who  was  trembling  nervously  and  as  was 
sometimes  the  case  from  troubles  consequent  to  her 
affliction,  could  speak  but  for  a  short  time. 

"Yes — Felix,  the  McDonalds  are  two  elderly  North 
ern  people  who  have  been  teaching  a  school  down  the 
country;  the  brother  is  dying  of  consumption.  Miss 
McDonald  is  taking  him  to  the  mountains  to  see  what 
the  change  will  do  for  him.  It  is  now  but  a  short  time 
until  their  school  will  begin  again,  and  she  does  not 
like  to  feel  that  she  will  be  compelled  to  leave  him  alone 
up  there ;  and  is  trying  to  get  someone  to  take  her  place ; 
she  expected  that  I  would  consent  to  take  it,  but  I  can 
not  leave  Lewellyn  for  so  long  a  time  as  I  might  be 
called  upon  to  stay ;  and  I  thought  of  you.  Do  you  think 
you  could  go?  It  is  at  Encinal." 

"I  will  be  glad  to  go.  I  know  my  father  will  consent 
and  there  is  nothing  to  keep  me  at  home,"  said  Felicia, 
with  inward  gratitude  to  God  at  this  answer  to  her 
prayer  for  guidance  and  support  in  this  dark  hour  of 
need.  She  went  through  all  of  the  morning  service 
mechanically,  and  without  other  feeling  than  an  im 
patience  for  its  ending,  that  she  might  be  at  liberty  to 
formulate  plans  for  a  future  line  of  conduct;  and  dur 
ing  the  sermon  remained  oblivious  to  all  sight  and 
sound  of  what  went  on  around  her.  She  had  seen  Ber- 
enger  amongst  those  who  were  late  to  enter  and  knew 
that  he  sat  alone  in  his  pew.  When  the  congregation 
had  been  dismissed  she  turned  hastily  and  said  to  the 
Sanfords, — bidding  them  good  bye. 


380  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Mrs.  Andrews,  I  will  be  sure  to  come  to-morrow. 
Look  for  all  the  family.  Tell  Miss  McDonald  I  will  take 
her  place." 

She  then  went  rather  hurriedly  down  the  aisle — 
bowing  slightly,  yet  pleasantly  to  her  friends.  Going 
down  the  wide  steps  she  gave  an  imperceptible  sign 
to  Berenger  to  follow  her  to  her  carriage;  which  by 
design,  was  left  in  the  shadow  of  some  trees  a  little 
way  off  from  the  other  vehicles  ranged  around  the 
churchyard. 

The  driver  was  asleep.  There  was  no  danger  of 
being  overheard. 

She  waited  but  a  little  while  before  he  joined  her. 
He  was  very  much  disturbed — even  alarmed.  She 
wondered  if  he  too,  knew  of  it  already.  If  so,  it  would 
make  it  easier  for  her.  But  without  giving  her  time  to 
ask,  he  began  to  question  her. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  me,  Felix?  I  hope  noth 
ing  very  bad." 

Something  in  her  manner  when  passing  him  in  the 
vestibule,  caused  him  instant  foreboding,  but  now 
noting  her  extreme  distress,  he  controlled  his  own 
fears  and  said  with  more  calmness — 

"Tell  me  what  is  wrong,  darling — it  can  not  surely 
be  very  bad." 

After  making  several  efforts  before  she  could  utter 
a  word,  she  began  to  speak  confusedly  and  incoher 
ently,  then  stopping,  her  thoughts  in  a  whirlwind  of 
perplexity.  She  was  parting  from  him  and  it  was 
bitter.  The  bitterness  made  more  intense  by  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  cheating  him. 

At  one  time  her  resolution  wavered,  and  she  came 
near  telling  him  that  it  was  impossible  to  live  without 
him.  That  she  would  go  with  him,  or  do  anything  else 
he  might  think  best  for  them  both.  But  recalling  what 
she  had  come  there  to  say  she  began  again.  Livid  in 
the  face  and  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  she  went  on 
haltingly : — 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  381 

"I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  leave  the 
country,  that  I  am  never  coming  back.  I  am  going  in 
a  day  or  two.  I  may  not  seen  you  again." 

"In  a  day  or  two? — Why  so  soon?"  She  pulled  her 
veil  over  her  hat  nervously  tying  the  ends  under  her 
chin.  "You  will  tell  me  why? — Is  it  anything  worse 
than  we  know?" 

"Someone  has  learned  about  the  night  of  the  storm. 
All  about  it,  Archie.  I  came  here  yesterday  for  my 
music — and  heard  persons  talking  about  me  shame 
fully — about  both  of  us — but  worse  about  me.  Mrs. 
Lindsay  was  speaking  when  I  came  to  the  door;  the 
first  thing  I  heard  bewildered  me.  I  could  not  think 
what  to  do,  and  I  stood  there  until  they  saw  me. 
Susannah  Crofts  saw  me  first.  I  went  at  last  and  got 
my  music.  Archie, — she  said  I  was  no  fit  companion 
for  young  girls,  and  that  she  and  the  whole  county 
believed  I  caused  the  separation  of  you  and  your  wife. 
That  we  ought  to  be  publicly  denounced.  Oh,  is  it  not 
horrible! — Archie,  how  do  you  suppose  they  came  to 
konw  about  the  jacal  ?  When  the  storm  came  up  there 
was  no  one  in  sight." 

"I  do  not  know.  I,  like  you,  thought  no  one  knew 
that  we  were  in  there.  Tell  me  where  you  are  going 
and  why." 

"Ultimately  to  New  Orleans.  In  a  day  or  two — 
to  the  old  Encinal  crossing  on  the  Guadalupe,  to  take 
charge  of  a  school.  I  am  going  because  I  must." 

"Won't  this  follow  you?    How  far  is  it?" 

"It  is  now  called  Tilton  Station,  it  is  sixty  miles. 
I  keep  the  school  until  the  McDonalds — two  elderly 
Northerners,  brother  and  sister,  stay  awhile  at  Cister- 
dale.  Mr.  McDonald  has  consumption  and  wants  to 
go  to  a  higher  altitude.  He  is  very  ill — if  he  dies,  Miss 
McDonald  will  retain  me  as  assistant,  if  I  wish.  If 
her  brother  gets  better,  I  give  up  the  position.  I  look 
upon  the  opportunity  as  a  God-send." 


382  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  do  not  see  but  that  you  will  in  every  way  be  as 
well  off  as  here.  But  believe  me,  Felix,  you  are  taking 
this  too  seriously." 

"No,  I  am  not.  No  one  must  ever  know  what  I've 
done.  You  must  promise  me  you  will  never — never 
let  it  be  known."  He  laughed. 

"You  refer  to — ?"  still  laughing;  but  there  was  no 
answering  smile,  and  looking  into  the  troubled  eyes 
for  a  minute  or  two,  he  went  on  gravely:  "I  do  not 
remember  any  matter  so  serious  as  to  require  it,  but 
I  promise  secrecy — dead  secrecy — if  you  demand  it. 
You  seem  to  forget  that  you  in  a  manner  belong  to 
me,  that  you  are  my  promised  wife ;  it  is  your  duty  to 
write  to  me  and  let  me  help  you.  I  do  not  wish  you 
to  be  an  itinerant  teacher.  It  will  be  well  enough — 
this  charitable  thing  you  will  do  for  the  McDonalds, 
but  do  not  stay  on  there.  Go  on  to  New  Orleans  as 
soon  as  you  can  get  some  one  to  take  your  place.  You 
are  mine,  and  it  is  a  dear  privilege  to  help  our  own. 
For  the  rest — I  will  never  again,  for  the  fraction  of  a 
moment,  live  with  my  present  lawful  wife,  as  her  hus 
band.  I  am  sorry  you  have  forced  me  to  repeat  this. 
I  have  faith  in  my  chances  of  release  from  the  tie. 
When  it  comes,  I  will  claim  you.  Do  not  permit  your 
self  ever  again,  to  be  wrought  up  to  such  intense  ex 
citement.  You  did  not  convince  me  at  our  last  meet 
ing,  that  our  parting  is  a  necessity;  but  I  submit  to  it 
as  to  a  decree  of  Providence,  and  because  you  wish  it. 
I  would  much  prefer  to  continue  as  we  are;  but  that 
is  not  saying  that  I  do  not  appreciate  your  feeling 
about  it." 

The  churchyard  was  deserted— the  driver  still  asleep 
on  his  seat. 

"It  may  be  a  long  time  before  we  meet,  Archie,  we 
will  say  good  bye  now,"  said  Felix — putting  her  hand 
in  his.  "Our  last,  for  a  time." 

"I  will  not.  Here  in  the  churchyard.  Besides  it 
would  be  too  sad  just  now  when  you  are  in  such  trouble. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  383 

Sanford  said  you  would  be  at  dinner  there  to-morrow 
evening.  I'll  brace  myself  like  a  man  and  say  good 
bye  there ;  though  against  my  will." 

"But  I  may  not  be  able  to  say  then  as  now,  how  much 
I  will  always  love  you,"  said  Felix,  with  wistful,  misty 
eyes. 

"My  darling!  But  we  will  meet  there — at  San- 
ford's  ?" 

"I  will  be  there,  certainly — but  I  could  not  say  this. 
Don't  you  see?" 

"I,  too,  will  say  something  it  will  be  impossible  to 
say  to-morrow.  Referring  to  my  rejected  proposition. 
Let  me  know  that  you  want  me,  and  I  will  come — no 
matter  if  I'm  at  the  other  end  of  the  world." 

She  replied  only  by  shaking  her  head  and  gently 
pressing  his  hand. 


When  Felix  reached  home,  she  found  her  father 
waiting  at  the  carriage  gate.  He  had  received  some 
important  letters  in  which  an  offer  was  made  for  a 
large  body  of  pasture  land,  lying  adjacent  to  his 
Nueces  property.  The  price  offered  would  relieve  him 
from  all  pecuniary  troubles.  He  could  hardly  wait  for 
her  return,  and  intended  to  walk  until  he  might  meet 
her. 

When  she  told  him  about  the  McDonalds.  He  of 
fered  no  objection  to  her  plan  of  helping  them ;  it  would 
be  on  her  way  to  New  Orleans.  If  detained  too  long, 
someone  else  could  be  engaged  to  take  her  place. 

"By  all  means  let  us  all  go  to  the  dinner;  we  must 
celebrate  in  some  way  our  release  from  the  bond  of 
debt.  I  will  not  go  to  evening  service  but  spend  the 
evening  with  you  and  Daisy." 

When,  in  after  years,  Felicia  recalled  this  little  re 
union,  there  was  neither  forgotten  one  look,  one  word, 
nor  the  most  trifling  incident  of  it ;  for  it  proved  to  be 
the  last  of  its  kind.  There  were  meetings  afterwards, 
but  never  in  Texas. 


384  AtONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Father,  the  money  you  will  receive  will  free  you 
from  debt,  entirely,  will  it  not?" 

"Much  more  than  that;  for  I  have  sold  at  a  profit 
which  alone  will  cover  two-thirds  of  my  indebtedness. 
The  gathering  and  sale  of  the  cattle  and  horse  herds  in 
the  West,  and  the  cotton  crop  here  will  detain  us  for 
only  a  few  weeks. 


When  Paul  and  his  children  reached  Sanford's  they 
found  that  the  McDonalds  had  been  there  since  morn 
ing;  having  always  to  stop  for  an  indefinite  number 
of  hours,  that  the  invalid  might  rest;  for  it  was  only 
by  easy  stages  that  he  could  travel  at  all.  He  appeared 
indeed  to  have  entered  already  the  dark  valley  through 
which  we  must  all  go  to  reach  our  final  resting  place. 
Paul,  who  from  the  first,  had  sincerely  sympathized 
with  them,  said :  "It  will  be  a  very  short  time,  Felix, 
before  you  will  be  able  to  proceed  on  your  journey, 
but  it  will  be  a  wonder  if  he  reach  the  end  of  his." 

The  man  himself,  was  full  of  hope  and  told  Paul 
of  benefit  derived  from  breathing  the  sweet  pure  air 
of  these  mountains  in  a  former  visit.  He  was  sorry 
they  had  not  gone  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  summer. 
He  alone  had  hope.  The  sister's  devotion  was  pa 
thetic;  showing  so  plainly  her  wish  to  put  off  their 
inevitable  parting  as  long  as  possible.  If  care  and' 
love  could  keep  him  here,  he  would  live. 

There  were  not  over  a  dozen  guests — a  half-dozen 
ladies  and  as  many  gentlemen.  The  two  Berengers 
and  Munroe  being  the  latest  arrivals.  When  the 
former  were  being  warmly  welcomed  by  hostess  and 
guests  alike,  Felix  for  the  first  time  looked  at  them  with 
thoughts  of  how  the  latter  might  regard  the  matter 
which  was  driving  her  from  the  country.  That  they 
all  knew  of  it  she  had  not  a  doubt.  But  they  were 
well-bred,  and  while  under  the  Sanford  roof  would  at 
least  be  civil.  She  was  sure  there  was  a  little  frostiness 
in  the  manner  of  one  or  two  of  them.  She  saw  Miss 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  385 

SanforcTs  fleeting  look  from  one  to  the  other,  repeated 
once  or  twice,  then  followed  by  one  at  Berenger — 
longer  and  taking  on  a  speculative  meaning,  which  said 
that  she  had  heard  reports — but  had  her  own  views; 
and  these,  to  him,  were  not  adverse  ones.  As  Felicia 
was  present  when  Capt.  Tabor  gave  his  version  of  the 
unfortunate  disagreement  of  the  Berengers,  she  knew 
that  the  Sanfords  looked  upon  the  separation  as  final, 
and  regarded  Berenger  as  a  single  man,  for  they  also 
were  aware  of  his  intended  application  for  a  divorce. 
They  were  liberal  minded  and  in  any  case  would  be 
more  lenient  in  their  judgment  of  all  offenses  than 
would  be  possible  to  many  of  their  neighbors. 

Berenger  was  unusually  grave.  He  had  never  told 
his  father  the  name  of  the  woman  he  had  so  dearly 
loved.  The  meeting  to-night  was  their  first.  This 
was  his  last  opportunity  and  though  he  wished,  for 
reasons  of  his  own,  that  his  father  might  see  her,  he 
had  no  intention  just  then  of  making  known  to  him 
their  present  relation,  or  of  detailing  the  malicious 
gossip  lately  current  in  the  neighborhood.  He  wished 
an  unbiased  opinion  from  the  one  whose  opinion  he 
valued  most.  Felix  sat  silent.  Feeling  like  one  con 
demned. 

"We  will  part  here  before  them  all,  and  it  will  be 
best — for  I  can  never,  never  tell  him  just  what  I  mean 
to  do!"  her  memory  reverting  to  the  scene  in  the 
churchyard.  "I  can  better  bear  my  own  pain  when 
not  in  sight  of  his." 

With  an  anguish  of  heart  that  made  her  want  to  run 
out  in  the  night — she  recalled  his  confidence  in  the  be 
lief  that  she  would  be  bound  by  certain  ties  which  he 
claimed  to  have  been  made  by  mutual  agreement,  but 
which  she  had  only  endorsed,  as  it  were,  by  her  silence 
— a  silence  caused  by  fears  of  arousing  his  grief  or 
anger — either  of  which  would,  in  conjunction  with  his 
stronger  will,  control  her  wishes  again  her  better  judg 
ment  of  what  was  virtuous  and  correct.  "You  are  my 

13 


386  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

promised  wife,"  or  "you  are  mine,"  were  phrases  too 
sweet  to  hear.  But  how  it  sounded — when  cooly  re 
flected  upon.  The  promised  wife  of  an  already  mar 
ried  man!  Through  unforseen  circumstances — would 
it  not  be  possible  for  him  yet  to  forego  a  divorce  and 
return?  There  were  his  dear  children.  Could  her 
father  ever  have  parted  from  her  and  Daisy?  But 
she  had  been  over  this  ground,  many  times — so  often 
that  now,  it  always  brought  confusion  to  her  mental 
faculties. 


They  were  sitting  round  the  well-appointed  table; 
its  polished  silver,  glittering  crystal  and  snowy  linert 
showing  well  in  the  light  of  many  candles.  Felix,  at 
the  far  end  of  it,  was  trying  to  reply  to  one  of  Col. 
Sanford's  characteristic  jovial  remarks,  when  a  gentle 
man  appeared  in  the  doorway.  Taking  in  the  party  at 
a  glance  and  advancing  with  the  confident  manner  of 
an  invited  guest,  he  approached  the  hostess  and  hold 
ing  out  his  hand,  said: 

"I  hope  I  have  not  kept  dinner  waiting." 
"God  bless  my  soul,  Mr.  Darius !"  said  Col.  Sanf ord, 
rising  and  going  forward.     "Did  you  drop  from  the 
clouds?" 

Paul  sprang  up  with  outstretched  arms  to  embrace 
him. 

"You  may  hug  me,  James  Paul,  but  you  must  not 
kiss  me!"  he  said,  submitting  to  the  fond  welcome  of 
his  brother-in-law,  and  causing  a  spontaneous  burst  of 
laughter  from  the  younger  members  of  the  party,  none 
of  whom  had  the  faintest  idea  who  he  was.  They  soon 
found  out. 

"Uncle  Darius!"  from  Daisy,  and  "Darling  Uncle 
Darius,"  from  Felicia  enlightened  them — it  was  the 
uncle  and  brother-in-law  of  the  family. 

"Don't  get  up,  any  more  of  you."  Bowing  to  the 
other  guests — the  most  of  whom  he  had  met  on  his 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  387 

previous  visit  several  years  ago,  he  went  to  Miss  San- 
ford  and  shook  hands  with  her.  When  seated  Col. 
Sanford  introduced  him  to  those  who  were  strangers — 
amongst  them  the  Berengers.  The  elder  of  the  two, 
whose  chair  was  next  to  that  of  the  newcomer,  prof 
fered  his  hand,  which  was  retained  for  a  moment  or 
two  in  the  firm  warm  grasp  of  the  younger  man,  while 
something  like  a  pleased  look  of  recognition  passed 
with  electrical  quickness  between  them.  But  this  was 
nothing  new  in  the  life  of  Darius.  His  coming  was 
always  refreshing — like  the  first  breath  of  spring  or 
a  wave  of  sweet  mountain  air.  Something  that  might 
be  likened  to  what  artists  call  atmosphere  in  pictures 
of  sunny  landscapes  and  flower  gardens. 

Questions  rained  upon  him  for  several  succeeding 
minutes.  They  were  answered  as  nearly  in  order  as 
possible.  "From  Mexico  last,  Col.  Sanford — joined 
a  hunting  party  at  El  Paso — for  protection — from 
Indians?  Yes—" 

"Yes,  Paul — your  Nueces  ranch — only  a  little  time 
— Here? — yes,  I  swooped  down  on  your  black  house 
hold  like  an  angel  from  above — and  was  treated  like 
one.  Yorke  brought  me  here." 

No  man  had  more  tact  than  Darius,  and  soon  things 
were  again  running  in  smooth  grooves. 

Returning  to  the  parlor,  the  conversation,  in  a  man 
ner  became  general,  but  soon  a  little  group  forming 
around  Darius — he  gave  them  a  brief  account  of  his 
recent  travels  in  South  America.  Detailing  also  some 
amusing  adventures  in  Mexico. 

This  was  supplemented  by  the  elder  Berenger,  with 
stories  of  sea  life,  which  held  the  attention  of  all  pres 
ent. 

For  once  card-playing  was  below  par.  Even  the 
younger  guests  aligning  themselves  with  the  listeners. 

At  any  time  previous  to  the  dinner  hour,  if  Beren 
ger  wished  to  speak  to  Felicia  about  her  departure,  he 
could  have  easily  made  an  opportunity.  For  a  time  it 


388  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

was  under  discussion  both  by  Miss  McDonald  and 
others;  but  he  took  no  part  in  it.  Nor  did  he,  except 
for  a  few  common-place  remarks,  address  Felix  at  all. 

But  when  in  reply  to  a  question,  Darius  had  said 
that  he  would  return  to  South  Carolina  in  a  very  few 
days,  and  Paul  willing,  he  would  take  Felix  and  Daisy 
with  him,  he  came  to  her  at  once  and  asked  if  she  were 
going. 

For  answer  she  explained  about  the  school — saying 
that  nothing  could  induce  her  to  disappoint  the  Mc 
Donalds.  She  plainly  saw  that  he  was  pleased  to  find 
that  she  would  remain. 


A  short  time  before  starting  for  home,  Paul  and 
Darius  seated  apart  from  the  others,  had  about 
finished  a  brief  summary  of  family  news,  when  Darius 
asked,  alluding  to  the  elder  Berenger: — 

"Paul,  isn't  that  the  man  who  pulled  you  out  of  your 
scrape,  a  year  or  two  ago?" 

"No,  it  was  the  younger  man." 

"Oh,  the  younger  one — "  said  Darius,  looking  at  him 
with  slow  scrutiny.  "He  is  dangerously  good-looking, 
but  offish.  Father  and  son — but  might  easily  go  for 
brothers;  a  gal  of  eighteen  might  as  soon  fall  in  love 
with  one  as  the  other;  the  English  beat  us  and  the 
world,  when  it  comes  to  the  beauty  of  their  men.  I'm 
glad  to  know  both  of  them."  When  they  joined  the 
others,  the  younger  Berenger  was  standing  near  Miss 
Sanford.  They  had  been  talking  in  a  desultory  fash 
ion,  both  appearing  a  little  bored. 

Darius  went  directly  towards  them  and  took  a  seat 
by  Miss  Sanford  with  a  view  to  gaining  a  better  ac 
quaintance  with  her  companion.  He  began  telling  an 
incident  in  his  Mexican  tour,  which  had  its  beginning 
in  the  voyagle  which  preceded  it.  Miss  Sanford,  much 
interested,  they  were  soon  in  animated  conversation. 
Berenger  took  this  opportunity  of  leaving  them.  Later 
on,  when  sitting  by  one  of  the  card-tables,  seeming  ill 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  389 

at  ease  and  restless,  Darius  again  approached  him, 
and  for  a  time  speaking  on  different  subjects  until 
coming  to  that  of  Bathurst's  leaving  Texas — he  said: 

"I  feel  that  I  ought  to  thank  you  in  the  name  of  the 
whole  Darius  family,  Mr.  Berenger,  for  your  kindness 
— for  the  inestimable  service  rendered  to  all  of  us — but 
especially  to  Paul;  and  be  assured  yours  is  a  name  we 
will  never  forget." 

Berenger  sat  looking  down;  the  hot  blood  mounting 
to  his  forehead;  nor  did  he  raise  his  head  when  he 
replied. 

"That,  Mr.  Darius,  was  what  any  man  would  have 
done  under  like  circumstances.  I  was  glad  to  be  of 
use." 

"What  can  be  the  matter  with  him?"  thought  Dar 
ius.  "He  is  one  of  the  last  among  men  I  would  expect 
to  find  so  taciturn  and  bashful." 

"He  is  in  some  kind  of  trouble,"  he  decided,  after 
one  or  two  failures  at  making  talk. 

Berenger,  himself,  could  scarcely  have  accounted  for 
the  tumult  of  feeling  aroused  by  the  unexpetced  ap 
pearance  of  Darius.  He  had  not  that  habit  of  thought 
which  calls  for  great  deliberation.  Greatly  governed 
by  impulse  throughout  his  short  life,  he  had  not 
adopted  anything  so  laborious  as  the  consideration  of 
the  possible  effects  which  might  grow  out  of  certain 
causes;  but  he  instinctively  knew  that  this  was  the 
man  with  whom  he  would  have  to  deal  if  he  followed 
the  course  upon  which  he  was  bent.  Hitherto  he  had 
been  conscious  of  no  wrong  in  it.  Now  he  felt  that 
such  views  would  not  be  tolerated  for  an  instant — that 
this  was  a  man  whose  ideas  diametrically  opposed  to 
his  own,  would  at  the  call  of  duty  lay  aside  all  personal 
feeling ;  and  who,  though  a  Christian,  and  a  consistent 
member  of  a  church,  might  have  opinions  outside  of 
its  range.  A  soldier  in  all  the  best  senses  of  the  name 
— and  looking  the  character  in  spite  of  his  citizens 
clothes — it  needed  not  his  father's  panegyric  on  their 


390  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

way  home  that  night,  to  convince  him  that  he  had  met 
one  with  a  nature  no  less  bold  than  his  own.  "A  strik 
ing-  fellow — a  fellow  it  does  one  good  to  meet.  Of  the 
kind  who  are  born  already  made  up,  and  sound 
throughout;  to  whom  all  acquirements  come  easy,  he 
is  handsome — accomplished,  traveled,  light-hearted, 
generous,  and  brave." 

"A  fellow  with  no  wild  oats  to  sow,"  said  Archie, 
with  some  bitterness.  "Or  if  he  had,  would  take  pains 
to  plant  them  on  barren  ground." 

"Perhaps,  but  allowing  that  to  be  true,  there  seems 
to  be  little  withheld.  Bathurst  tells  me  he  has  never 
known  him  to  be  ill — that  he  has  never  had  a  fever  or 
cold  in  his  life.  The  little  girl  is  like  him;  she  does 
not  resemble  her  father,  who  is  a  Frenchman;  if  you 
met  him  in  France,  you  might  easily  believe  he  had 
never  been  anywhere  else.  Miss  Bathurst  is  the  young 
lady  who  struck  Tabor's  fancy,  isn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"She  is  beautiful." 

"I  have  been  waiting  to  hear  your  opinion.  She  was 
my  choice  of  all  the  world." 

"Then  she  is  the  woman  you  wrote  to  me  about  be 
fore  your  marriage?"  asked  the  elder  man  after  a 
pause. 

"Yes," 

"You  did  not  mention  her  name.  Did  she  think  as 
well  of  you?" 

"I  believe  not — hardly  as  well." 


In  the  few  days  following,  the  whole  time  was  given 
to  the  discussion  of  ways  and  means  and  the  return 
of  the  natives  to  their  old  home. 

"There  was  no  cause  whatever,  James  Paul,  for  all 
your  business  agonies.  I  had  all  along  more  money 
than  I  could  use,"  said  Darius. 

"It  would  have  been  wiser  to  have  called  for  your 
help;  but  alas!  I  am  not  a  wise  man." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  391 

Darius  was  bitterly  opposed  to  leaving  Felicia  be 
hind  but  could  not,  he  said,  fail  to  admire  her  charit 
able  resolve ;  yet  would  be  willing  to  pay  any  sum  that 
might  be  named,  to  anyone  who  would  take  her  place 
as  a  substitute.  At  first  she  had  said : — 

"It  will  be  perhaps  not  more  than  a  month  until  I 
can  go  to  New  Orleans  and  stay  with  Aunt  Aurelia 
uutil  father  comes." 

"Your  Aunt  Aurelia  will  go  back  with  me  and  your 
father  does  not  want  to  touch  New  Orleans." 

"Then,  Uncle  Darius,  I  could  come  home  and  go  with 
father  in  November." 

"But  all  your  household  goods  will  be  sold  except 
your  pictures,  jewels  and  other  valuables  of  which 
your  father  wishes  me  to  take  charge,  along  with 
Daisy,  Polydore  and  Candace." 

"If  a  substitute  could  be  found,  Uncle  Darius,  I 
would  prefer  to  go  now ;  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  im 
possible,  as  Miss  McDonald  had  scoured  all  the  sur 
rounding  country  before  she  came  to  Sanford's." 

"Could  you  not  wait  a  week?"  asked  Paul.  "Felicia 
could  go  on  at  once  and  begin ;  by  that  time  we  might 
find  someone  to  relieve  her." 

"More  likely  not — and  besides,  as  you  know,  there 
are  pressing  reasons  for  my  immediate  presence  at 
home." 

The  sectional  agitation  in  the  United  States  of 
America  had  now,  after  ten  years  of  marked  antagon 
ism  between  the  North  and  South,  in  the  former, 
reached  the  point  of  fanaticism.  War  seemed  inevit 
able.  It  was  hardly  to  be  believed.  It  is  true  they  had 
read  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  besides  that  book, 
some  others  of  far  greater  significance — especially  of 
late.  One  of  them,  a  bundle  of  inaccuracies,  prejudice 
and  hate,  bearing  directly  on  the  peace  and  welfare  of 
the  State  of  Texas. 

Anent  the  troublous  question,  Darius  and  Paul, 
along  with  thousands  of  other  educated  men  and 
women  of  their  class — knowing  from  the  past  history 


392 


of  the  world  that  the  extinction  of  slavery  in  the 
Southern  States  was  inevitable — held  that  a  gradual 
emancipation,  even  if  the  slowest,  was  the  wisest  and 
safest  method  of  freeing  themselves  of  the  National 
Curse.  They  had  never  imagined  that  any  other 
method  would  be  adopted.  Even  now  with  the  turbu 
lent  state  of  affairs  in  the  territory  of  Kansas  before 
them  they  had  no  conception  of  what  was  so  near  at 
hand. 

"I've  been  asleep,  Paul;  I  have  been  running  about 
the  world  when  I  might  have  been  at  home  doing  a 
little  good.  It  is  hard  to  believe,  but  it  looks  like  our 
brothers  of  the  North  are  bent  on  our  ruin,  and  that 
they  are  in  a  hurry  to  bring  it  about." 


The  call  of  the  school  was  imperative ;  there  was  no 
time  to  look  for  another  substitute.  It  was  agreed  that 
Darius,  Felix,  and  Kaspar,  with  their  servants,  would 
go  as  far  as  Encinal  Station  together;  Felix  remain 
ing,  the  others  going  on.  Max  and  Echo  had  been 
sold.  Their  owners  weeping  as  they  kissed  their  soft, 
velvety  noses  for  the  last  time. 

Their  plan  of  travel  was  carried  out,  and  Felicia 
took  her  place  in  the  school  on  the  following  Monday. 

At  Sanford's  both  Felicia  and  Berenger  had  been 
cautious — keeping  guard  on  word  and  look,  but  when 
parting  he  pressed  into  her  hand  a  scrap  of  paper  on 
which  was  written  in  pencil — "I  will  be  at  Encinal  at 
the  end  of  the  month.  Write  to  me.  Address — El 
Paso.  A.  B." 

There  had  been  no  opportunity  for  remonstrance 
or  protest — nor  could  it  be  said  that  she  wished  it; 
believing  from  her  knowledge  of  the  masterful  and 
determined  spirit  of  the  writer,  that  nothing  she  might 
do  or  say  would  stand  in  the  way  of  it.  But  the  man 
was  still  the  husband — the  lawful  husband  of  another. 
She  would  travel  no  farther  along  the  downward  path. 
She  would  find  some  other  road ;  looking  to  Providence 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  393 

to  guide  her  steps.  That  he  would  follow  her  to  New 
Orleans  or  even  to  Charleston,  she  believed.  The  af 
fair  must  go  no  further.  She  had  taught  only  three 
days,  when  she  received  notice  of  the  death  and  burial 
of  Mr.  McDonald — he,  dying  only  a  few  hours  after 
his  arrival  at  Cisterdale.  As  Felix  had  received  be 
fore  she  left  home,  a  letter  from  Miss  Camden  in  which 
was  expressed  the  almost  certainty  of  securing  the  po 
sition  of  principal  in  a  select  school  for  girls  in  Gal- 
veston,  there  would  now  be  at  that  place  a  friend  upon 
whose  help  she  could  rely.  It  was  a  relief  to  know 
that  she  would  at  once  be  at  liberty  to  leave  the  Guada- 
lupe.  Miss  McDonald's  arrival  quickly  followed  that 
of  her  letter,  and  thus  it  happened  that  while  yet  in 
the  early  days  of  September,  1860,  she  was  again  at 
Encinal  Station  near  the  hour  of  midnight;  waiting 
with  Miss  McDonald,  one  of  her  older  pupils,  the 
Brown  family  and  some  young  people  of  the  neighbor 
hood  for  the  coach  which  was  to  take  her  to  the  term 
inus  of  this  stage  line — which  was  at  Houston.  At  this 
point  the  railroad  began ;  from  that  place  she  would  go 
to  Galveston  and  visit  her  friend,  Miss  Camden.  The 
stage  coach  had  now  arrived  and  the  stable-men  were 
changing  horses.  Her  friends  had  grouped  themselves 
about  her. 

"Will  you  return  home  after  your  visit  to  Galveston 
or  will  you  go  to  your  Aunt  in  New  Orleans?"  asked 
Miss  McDonald. 

"It  is  impossible  to  say,  but  I  will  write  you,  Miss 
McDonald." 

"Mr.  Rheinhardt,  will  you  see  that  Miss  Bathurst 
has  a  good  seat? — Try  to  get  a  back  seat." 

"De  best  in  de  goach,  Miss  McDonald."  He  was 
helping  Felix  up  the  steps. 

"They  are  not  quite  ready ;  I  will  get  in  and  sit  with 
you."  Miss  McDonald  seated  herself — her  face  turned 
towards  Felix  on  the  back  seat. 

"How  nice  for  you  to  have  a  back  seat!" 


394  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

All  the  passengers  were  out  except  one  gentleman, 
also  on  the  back  seat,  who  coughed  and  was  very  muf 
fled  up.  It  was  a  cool  night. 

"Isn't  your  cloak  too  light,  dear?  Are  you  sure 
you'll  be  warm  enough,  Felicia?"  said  Miss  McDonald, 
taking  her  hands.  "Why,  darling,  your  hands  are  cold 
— and — why  Felix!  You  are  crying.  Is  that  the  way 
you  treat  your  friends?" 

There  was  no  reply. 

"All  aboard!" 

"Now,  darling,  give  me  your  hands!  May  God  for 
ever  bless  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me  in  my 
great  distress !"  A  hurried  embrace — Miss  McDonald 
was  gone — and  Felicia  was  left  alone  with  strangers. 

A  stout  gentleman  had  seated  himself  on  the  remain 
ing  back  seat.  Two  young  men  sat  in  front  of  her  who 
soon  began  to  speak  in  German.  The  occupants  of  the 
other  seats  were  hidden  in  the  darkness  and  could  not 
be  made  out ;  but  it  could  be  seen  that  there  were  three 
of  them,  and  that  one  of  them  was  lying  down.  They 
traveled  briskly  over  the  smooth  level  road  for  near 
two  hours,  when  there  was  a  halt. 

"The  Altman  Ranch!" — from  the  driver. 

The  two  young  Germans  got  out,  and  two  others — 
cowboys — came  in,  booted  and  spurred,  and  in  overalls. 
Mr.  Rheinhardt  came  down  from  above. 

"It  is  cold  up  dere,  Miss  Bathurst — I  cooms  down. 
Heigh,  poys!  Ain'd  you  been  going  de  wrong  ways. 
I  thought  you  pe  goin'  to  King's  Ranch  to-morrow?" 

"So  we  are.  But  we  got  to  git  some  hawses  at 
Avant's  fust.  We  goin'  to  buy  them." 

"I  go  to  Avant's  to  puy  some  hawses,  too." 

"Miss  Bathurst,  Oscar  Hahn — he  done  puy  your 
brother's  hoss.  He  got  Max  and  Echo  bote.  I  t'ink 
he  put  gold  shoes  on  dem  little  hosses — he  treat  dem 
like  a  vader,"  and  laughing  loudly,  he  asked: — 

"You  glad  to  know  dot?" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  395 

"I  am  indeed,"  answered  Felix,  chokingly.  "I  hated 
to  part  with  Max  and  I  hated  to  think  they  were  sep 
arated." 

"It's  a  dam  shame,  Miss  Bathurst.  It  is  always  like 
dot  mit  de  step-mutters.  I  hat  one  a  hoonder  years 
off — und  she  zhoosts  puts  our  noses  unter  grind- 
shtones  all  dimes.  Dat  cooms  you  mit  der  school? 
Hem?" 

"It  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it,"  she  an 
swered,  divining  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  finale 
of  that  unhappy  episode,  but  not  caring  to  prolong  the 
disagreeable  reminiscence. 

Mr.  Rheinhardt  ceased  speaking.  The  man  next 
Felicia  was  snoring  loudly.  The  gentleman  in  the 
corner  straightened  up,  and  taking  a  little  box  from 
his  pocket,  struck  a  match,  took  something  out  of  it 
and  swallowed  it.  The  light  from  the  match  for  an 
instant  revealed  the  pale,  clear-cut,  handsome  face  of 
a  man  apparently  about  thirty-five  years  old.  The  ef 
fect  was  electrical.  One  of  the  vaqueros,  a  Mexican, 
broke  out  excitedly: — 

"El  Capitan !  Eet  is  El  Capitan— Beel !  El  Capitan, 
Senor  Hawlee!  Wake  up,  Beel!" 

"Why — Tomaso!  Who  would  look  for  you  so  far 
from  home!"  said  the  gentleman,  extending  his  hand, 
and  speaking  with  decided  English  accent  and  intona 
tion.  "You  are  on  a  long  jaunt." 

"Si,  Senor,  we  leef  Santa  Gertrudes  lahs'  week;  we 
herd  beeves.  Our  horses  much  tired — like  Beel,"  he 
said,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  looking  at  the  head 
of  his  companion,  as  hanging  loosely  over  the  back  of 
the  strap,  it  nodded  in  unison  with  every  jolt  of  the 
coach. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  the  Captain. 
"Beel  Hines,"  laughing  softly. 
"Oh— Billy  Hines." 


396  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Usted  son  mejor,  Senor?    What  you  call  improve?" 

"Much  better — I'm  going  home." 

"To  England,  Senor  Capitan?" 

"No,  to  New  Orleans.    I  live  there  now." 

"Avant  Ranch!" — from  the  driver. 

"Adios,  Senor  Capitan." 

"Good  bye,  Tomaso.    Good  bye,  Billy." 

"Thunder  and  lightnin!  Tomaso,  why  didn't  you 
wake  me!  Captain  Hawley,  I'm  turrible  sorry  I  wuz 
asleep." 

"Good  bye,  Miss  Bathurst,  I  gets  off  here  too.  Take 
care  of  yourself.  Is  it  goot  dot  I  dells  you  of  Mahx?" 

"Very,  very  good,  Mr.  Rheinhardt,  good  bye." 

A  steady  north  wind  began  to  blow — increasing  in 
coolness.  It  lacked  two  hours  of  six  o'clock  and  so 
dark  that  the  silent  figures  of  the  travelers  were  bare 
ly  discernable.  Felix  who  had  sunk  into  a  troubled, 
fitful  sleep  awoke  unrefreshed.  Her  sleeping  neighbor 
had  encroached  upon  her  share  of  the  seat  and  she 
had  drawn  back  until  remonstrance  was  unavoidable. 

"Will  you  please  move  you  head?"  she  asked,  gently 
— a  snore  was  the  only  answer.  The  Englishman  arose 
and  firmly  drew  him  into  line — he  fell  back  again. 
"Say, — wake  up!  my  friend,"  shaking  him  by  the 
shoulder,  "keep  your  place." 

"I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  sir."  He  noticed  that 
she  seemed  to  be  chilled — and  drew  her  cloak  more 
closely  about  her. 

"You  are  cold?" 

"Not  very,"  was  the  shivering  reply. 

He  said  nothing,  but  took  from  under  the  seat,  a 
shawl  and  unstrapping  it,  wrapped  it  snugly  around 
her  shoulders. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  was  the  grateful  acknowledgement 
for  this  service.  The  darkness  was  now  intense;  the 
welcome  warmth  producing  an  incontrolable  drowsi 
ness,  she  fell  asleep.  It  was  approaching  daylight, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  397 

though  as  yet  no  ray  of  the  morning  sun  was  visible 
and  it  was  still  quite  dark,  when  she  was  awakened 
by  a  boyish  voice  from  the  front  seat. 
*" Hello,  father!    Where  are  we  now?" 

"Ask  somebody  else,  I've  been  asleep  all  night." 

This  voice  was  harsh,  and  had  a  decidedly  Yankee 
nasal  tone  in  it.  It  can't  be  far  from  daylight  and  we 
can  soon  see  for  ourselves,"  he  added,  as  he  sat  up. 

The  man  on  the  other  seat  now  raised  himself  into 
a  sitting  posture.  "I've  been  fighting  Indians  all 
night,"  he  drawled  in  an  unmistakably  Southern  voice. 

"What  tribe?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Comanches, — and  they  were  getting  the  best  of  me, 
at  least  the  last  one — the  others  had  run  me  down,  and 
this  one  had  just  scalped  me,  when  I  woke." 

"The  result  of  a  combination — yesterday's  bad  news 
and  a  jolt  of  the  coach,"  laughed  the  Yankee. 

"Feel  of  your  head,  doctor,  and  see  if  there  isn't  a 
bump,"  said  the  boy  merrily. 

"Bump  or  not,  I'd  rather  meet  a  Comanche  in  my 
dreams  than  anyhow  else." 

"For  all  the  good  our  troops — our  Regulars  I  mean — 
are  doing  out  here  on  this  frontier,  we  might  as  well 
be  dreaming,"  said  the  Yankee.  "Our  method  of  fight 
ing  Indians  according  to  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare 
is  murderous — ourselves — the  officers  and  soldiers,  of 
the  regular  army,  being  the  first  victims.  The  next, 
being  the  people  of  this  frontier  whom  we  are  sup 
posed  to  protect.  If  it  wern't  for  the  Rangers,  all  the 
inhabitants,  including  those  at  the  posts,  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  the  tribes  scattered  along  the  border,  and 
we  know  what  kind  of  mercy  to  expect." 

"How  do  you  think  we  ought  to  fight  them,  father? 
With  their  own  kind  of  weapons?  and  with  also  their 
methods  of  warfare?" 

"With  their  methods — but  not  their  weapons,  if  you 
mean  bows  and  arrows  and  lances — but  with  the  best 
of  rifles,  powder  and  ball — by  ambush  and  trickery 
of  all  kinds — such  as  they  like  themselves.  To  take 


398  AIvONGJTHE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

the  trained  soldiers  of  our  government  and  oppose 
them  to  those  warriors  in  the  mountainous  districts 
which  they  inhabit,  is  like  leading  or  driving  sheep  to 
the  butcher's  block." 

"But  do  you  call  that  fair,  father?  We  so  far  out 
number  them.  We  have  driven  them  back — back — 
back  from  their  hunting  grounds.  Would  you  exterm 
inate  them?" 

"Romantic  nonsense  and  twaddle  of  the  school-boy 
— and  the  non-efficient.  That  is  their  lookout.  They 
had  their  choice  to  be  civilized  or  not.  They  chose  the 
negative.  They  make  no  effort.  They  expect  the 
white  man's  labor  to  suffice  for  the  civilizing  act;  in 
which  he  may  go  as  far  as  his  complaisance  will  per 
mit;  for,  speaking  both  figuratively  and  literally,  he 
is  expected  to  do  it  all ;  to  wipe  their  noses,  comb  their 
hair  and  wash  their  damned  feet;  while  they  sit  back 
on  their  haunches — kill  game  and  eat — and  steal  and 
murder  for  pastime.  They  would  not  civilize  them 
selves  in  eons  of  ages.  Why  should  we  waste  the 
natural  period  of  one  noble  life  in  the  attempt  to  do 
what  Providence  has  shown  no  sign  of  wishing  to  do." 

"Then  father,  if  I, — well  armed — were  to  come  upon 
an  Indian — also  well  armed,  but  asleep — ought  not  I  to 
wake  him  and  give  him  a  chance  for  his  life,"  said  the 
boy,  after  a  thoughtful  silence  of  some  minutes. 

"Not  a  dog's  chance.    What  would  you  do,  Doctor?" 

"That  is  a  point  upon  which  there  is  much  difference 
of  opinion.  It  was  up  before  us  last  week  in  camp; 
and  I  decided  I  would  take  them  prisoners.  Our  prop 
osition  took  in  a  sleeping  scout  of  three  Indians,  one 
of  them  wounded.  Only  one  man  out  of  the  troop  was 
for  waking  them  and  giving  them  'a  dog's  chance.'  " 

"What  was  really  done?" 

"Colt's  revolvers  and  blown-out  brains." 

"Good!  What  nonsense  to  stand  off  and  let  per 
haps  half  a  dozen  good  U.  S.  men  die  in  their  boots. 
I  know  the  gang  you  mean.  They  tied  two  women  to 
a  cart-wheel  and  burnt  them  to  death." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  399 

"Still,  I  think  I  would  wake  him,"  said  the  Virginian. 

"So  do  I,"  said  the  boy. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Captain  Hawley?  Tell  us 
what  Englishmen  would  have  done  with  them." 

"I  hardly  know,  but  with  our  recent  abrupt  dis 
charge  of  the  Sepoys  in  mind,  I  forbear  to  criticize 
severely,"  answered  Capt.  Hawley,  laughing. 

"It's  the  only  stroke  that  counts — the  quickest  way 
to  civilize;  because  the  only  way  to  reach  the  under 
standing  of  savage  people."  . 

"Colonel,  what  do  you  think  of  so  many  of  us  being 
called  East  of  late.  There  are  no  soldiers  left  along 
the  whole  Indian  frontier  clean  down  to  El  Paso;  as 
a  consequence,  Col.  Henry  McCulloch  is  sending  troops 
of  Rangers  to  the  vacated  posts  along  this  line.  A  bat 
talion  was  sent  to  the  lower  Rio  Grande  ten  days  ago ; 
and  before  they  could  get  settled,  three  companies 
were  ordered  East;  two  days  "after  the  other  went. 
What  does  it  mean?" 

"It  means — if  I  know  anything  of  signs,  that  you 
and  I  may  not  be  as  good  friends  at  the  beginning  of 
1861,  as  we  are  at  the  close  of  1860." 

"It  means  that — well — that  I  hear  the  roar  of 
cannon.  It  means  trouble." 

To  the  end  of  her  life  Felix  never  forgot  this  pro 
phetic  presentiment; — made  weird  by  the  inky  dark 
ness — the  soft  rumbling  of  the  coach-wheels  and  the 
chill  air  of  the  coming  morning  hours.  A  faint  purple 
glow  was  showing  above  the  eastern  horizon.  She  took 
off  her  hat, — arranged  her  hair  and  brushed  from  her 
clothes  the  dust  of  travel,  before  the  broad  light  of 
day  might  make  these  duties  embarrassing. 

When  day — the  light  appeared,  it  revealed  the  erect 
forms  of  a  colonel  and  surgeon  in  the  undress  uniform 
of  the  United  States  Army — and  a  handsome  youth 
of  apparently  seventeen  years  of  age.  All  of  whom 
had  fixed  a  steady  gaze  upon  the  lovely  face  before 
them.  A  regard  which  though  admiringly  and  re- 


400  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

spectfully  bestowed,  caused  the  owner  in  the  first  un 
observed  moment  to  draw  her  veil  over  her  features. 
Six,  seven — then  eight  o'clock. 

"Breakfast!" 

"You  will  go  to  breakfast,  Miss  Bathurst?  Then 
come  with  me.  You  see  I  know  your  name." 

"And  I  yours.  You  are  Captain  Hawley,"  said  Felix, 
removing 'her  veil.  Ah! — this,  then,  was  Felix  Bath 
urst.  He  had  heard  of  her,  but  imagined  something 
different — a  beauty,  certainly,  but  of  a  sort  like  that 
of  a  boy ;  and  with  the  tastes  and  habits  of  a  boy.  He 
would  have  looked  for  a  brace  of  pistols  or  at  least 
a  buckskin  skirt;  but  never  for  such  loveliness  as 
caught  and  held  his  attention  as  they  walked  together 
from  the  stables  to  the  old  roadside  tavern. 

"I  think  I  can  lay  claim  to  a  prior  acquaintance  with 
you,  Miss  Bathurst.  I  may  say  I  know  you  by  reputa 
tion.  Do  you  remember  Captain  Sturdivant?" 

"I  know  of  him.  He  was  quartered  at  San  Antonio 
about  two  years  ago." 

"He  met  you  at  a  ball,  I  think  he  told  me." 

"At  Mrs.  Wilcox's  ball,  but  I  do  not  think  we  were 
introduced."  Captain  Hawley  did  not  tell  that  Sturd 
ivant  had  a  photograph  of  her,  which  he  owned  to  have 
stolen,  because  of  the  beautiful  face  there  pictured — 
or  that  the  pale  but  lovely  girl  now  walking  beside 
him  brought  at  once  to  mind  her  name  and  this  scarce 
ly  noticed  picture.  But — "Felix  Bathurst" — the  name 
had  haunted  him,  and  yet  last  night  when  hearing  her 
addressed  as  "Felix"  by  some  and  Miss  Bathurst  by 
others — he  had  not  connected  them.  He  felt  inex 
pressibly  charmed  by  and  drawn  towards  her.  In  a 
gentle,  unobtrusive  way  he  took  charge  of  her.  He 
felt  that  he  had  known  her  always;  that  she  was  in 
some  way  a  part  of  his  life.  He  knew  in  reality  her 
reputation  for  beauty — he  was  aware  that  she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  gentleman — and  that  her  whole  appear 
ance  and  manner  bespoke  high  breeding.  He  had 
gathered  from  the  remarks  of  her  friends  that  her 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  401 

father  was  in  financial  straits  and  guessed  that  her 
evident  sadness  was  caused  by  family  troubles.  She 
was  going  to  meet  a  friend  in  Galveston  who  had  been 
a  teacher — perhaps  with  a  view  to  assist.  That  was 
the  school  referred  to  by  the  German  horse-dealer, 
Rheinhardt.  How  deferential  and  loving  they  had  all 
been  in  their  manner  towards  her.  He  felt  touched 
with  a  certain  pathetic  note  in  it  all.  The  sob  in  the 
sweet  voice  when  referring  to  her  horse,  that  "had  to 
be  sold"  had  brought  an  ache  in  his  throat — all  this 
in  the  dark,  when  the  graceful  outlines  in  the  figure 
were  all  he  had  seen.  When  daylight  came  and  he  had 
looked  upon  her  loveliness,  one  glance  was  sufficient 
to  make  him  her  friend.  It  would  better  be  said  they 
were  friends — Felix  would  have  required  no  other  or 
better  introduction.  The  spontaneous,  affectionate 
greeting  of  the  vaqueros  the  night  before,  and  the 
knowledge  that  he  had  been  a  guest  of  the  family  at 
Santa  Gertrudes,  would  have  been  sufficient.  But  the 
high-bred,  clear-cut  face — the  whole  manner  of  the 
man — made  a  personality  so  charming  as  to  render  all 
else  useless  and  unnecessary.  All  day  long,  whether 
conversing  or  silent,  the  feeling  of  congenial  compan 
ionship  shortened  the  hours,  and  as  the  evening  passed 
and  night  again  drew  on,  their  somnolent  seat-mate, — 
to  whom  Captain  Hawley  had  given  his  corner, — that 
he  might  more  easily  talk  to  Felicia, — took  his  leave. 
"Now  I  come  again  into  my  rights,"  said  Captain  Haw- 
ley.  "But  if  any  other  voyageur  comes  along,  I  will 
again  sit  near  you  and  prevent  the  annoyance  of  last 
night." 

"I  will  give  you  my   place.     You   will   sleep    more 
easily  in  a  corner,  and  you  look  ill." 

"I  have  not  felt  in  the  least  so  to-day." 
The  party  on  the  front  seats  had  talked  incessantly 
all  day — about  the  frontier  and  the  adjacent  wild 
countries  lying  next  to  it.  Thrilling  stories  of  wild 
adventures — of  outlaws  and  savages.  So  interesting 
that  frequently  the  discussion  became  general. 


402  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

The  surgeon  lived  at  Richmond,  Va.,  where  he  was 
born  and  had  been  brought  up.  The  colonel  was  a 
native  of  Vermont.  Both  were  West  Pointers; — 
though  not  contemporaries.  The  Colonel  being  ten 
years  the  senior  in  age.  'They  now  formed  the  only 
other  occupants  of  the  coach. 

"One  more  night  and  part  of  a  day,"  said  the  boy, 
"and  we'll  reach  Houston.  Then  a  few  hours  more 
and  we'll  be  in  Galveston.  Then  Ho!  for  the  North! 
I  wish  you  were  going  on  with  us,"  looking  straight  at 
Felix.  This  brought  roars  of  laughter  from  his  father. 
So  the  day  was  passed  and  night  had  come.  While  the 
moon  had  shown  fitfully  through  the  drifting  clouds 
there  was  occasionally  a  desultory  remark  from  one 
or  another  of  the  tired  travelers;  but  midnight  hours 
brought  drowsiness  and  each  one  had  settled  himself 
in  the  nearest  way  possible  to  a  restful  position.  All 
were  apparently  sleeping;  Felix  drowsily  wondering 
whether  or  not  she  too  might  be  so  fortunate.  The 
wind  had  risen,  and  was  now  and  then  blowing  rain  in 
big  drops  through  a  window  of  the  stage.  A  passenger 
closed  the  window.  The  road  was  growing  heavy  with 
mud;  and  although  the  driver  swore,  and  cracked  his 
whip  over  the  horses,  they  were  traveling  slowly.  They 
were  going  it  seemed  through  herds  of  cattle,  which 
could  be  seen  dimly  on  each  side  of  the  road  as  they 
traveled  patiently  and  noiselessly  through  the  dark 
ness.  Why  were  they  so  driven?  Why  not  let  them 
rest?  She  would  intercede.  Some  one  rudely  pushed 
her  into  a  strange  room  and  locked  the  door.  There 
was  no  way  out.  Springing  up  and  wringing  her 
hands  in  dumb  agony — not  realizing  where  she  was 
and  being  only  partially  awake — she  stood  with  staring 
eyes — and  stooping,  looked  curiously  at  the  sleeping 
group  around  her,  and  memory  returned.  The  whole 
of  her  life,  her  past,  with  its  sorrows —  its  sorrows 
only — seemed  to  spread  out  before  her  in  one  great 
picture  of  horrible  confusion.  She  leaned  back  in 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE   ROUTE  403 

her  seat,  and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  began 
to  weep.  "I  am  going  away  from  all  of  them!  My 
dear  father,  and  brother,  and  my  friends.  To  what 
end  am  I  hurrying  on!"  She  half  rose;  then  again 
seating  herself — bent  over — resting  her  head  upon 
the  back  of  the  vacant  seat  before  her,  suppressing  her 
sobs  and  quietly  wiping  away  her  falling  tears.  They 
were  approaching  a  stage-stand,  and  although  the 
driver  had  trumpeted  his  coming  with  blast  after  blast 
of  his  bugle,  all  was  yet  dark  and  still.  There  would 
be  more  than  the  usual  delay. 


404  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER   VII. 

"A — h !  Let  us  all  get  out  and  tramp  around  a  bit." 
No  sooner  said  than  done.  Captain  Hawley  alone  re 
mained  ;  Felix  taking  again  her  former  position.  Mov 
ing  nearer  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  he  said. 

"My  dear  Miss  Bathurst,  before  the  others  come 
back,  let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  observed  your  unhap- 
piness.  I  am  much  older  than  you  are,  and  have  had 
great  sorrows.  This,  I  feel  gives  me  a  right  to  intrude 
my  unsought  sympathy  upon  you.  Don't  tell  me  any 
thing  you  do  not  wish  me  to  know — tell  me  only  what 
you  would  be  willing  to  tell  your  father  or  your  best 
friend.  It  grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  like  this. 
Our  acquaintance  is  only  a  day  old,  but  I  feel  as  much 
your  friend  as  if  I  had  known  you  from  infancy.  Have 
you  never  experienced  these  sudden  friendships,  Miss 
Bathurst?" 

Recovering,  she  managed  to  reply,  with  composure : 

"Often — all  my  life,  at  times — I  have  met  with  those 
whom  I  loved  at  first  sight — some  of  them  are  among 
my  best  friends." 

"And  I'll  venture  to  say  you  have  been  the  object  of 
such  feeling  all  your  life.  That  you  have  been  loved 
all  your  life.  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  you  dicl 
for  Miss  McDonald? — I  could  not  help  hearing  her 
parting  words." 

"I  taught  her  school  for  a  few  days.  Her  brother 
was  ill  at  Cisterdale,  and  I  took  her  place  so  that  she 
could  remain  with  him  without  losing  her  position — 
which  would  have  been  the  case,  had  no  one  acted  as 
her  substitute. — Her  brother  died." 

"You  are  homesick,  you  are  away  from  your  friends ; 
you  are  young;  when  you  are  older  all  this  will  appear 
trifling.  I  find  that  you  help  others.  You  will  allow 
me  to  help  you,  will  you  not?" 

"Most  gratefully,  Captain  Hawley." 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  405 

"Then  do  not  grieve.  You  will  make  yourself  ill. 
When  we  get  to  Houston  we  will  have  to  wait  some 
hours  and  we  will  talk  it  over.  We  are  fast  friends 
already,  are  we  not?" — taking  her  hand  for  a  moment. 

"I  am  sure  the  greatest  advantage  will  be  mine." 

There  was  no  time  for  further  confidences  of  this 
nature.  There  was  no  stop  at  Houston  and  they  were 
nearing  Galveston,  when  Captain  Hawley  left  his  seat 
at  the  back  end  of  the  car  and  sat  beside  Felicia. 

"We  will  reach  Galveston  in  an  hour,  Miss  Bathurst. 
Will  you  go  directly  to  your  friend  or  will  you  stop  at 
the  B—  Hotel?" 

"I  do  not  know  just  where  to  find  her — yes  I  will 
stop  at  the  B —  Hotel — for  a  time." 

"I  am  going  to  put  up  there  for  a  few  days,  and  I 
may  still  be  of  use  to  you."  The  pallor  he  had  observed 
on  the  first  day  of  their  meeting  had  increased,  and 
she  showed  a  shrinking  reluctance  in  speaking  of  her 
future  movements,  and  he  was  surprised  at  what 
seemed  to  be  a  timid  avoidance  of  himself  in  her  man 
ner.  She  had  determined  that,  after  resting  and  mak 
ing  some  necessary  changes  in  her  dress,  she  would 
go  to  the  house  of  a  mutual  acquaintance  of  herself 
and  Miss  Camden  and  make  inquiries;  and  with  this 
in  mind,  she  entered  the  dining-room.  She  noticed 
that  Captain  Hawley  was  seated  at  what  seemed  to 
be  the  principal  and  best  appointed  table  as  to  the  fit 
tings  and  the  service;  and  that  he  was  the  center  of 
attraction,  judging  by  the  attitude  of  the  other  guests 
and  engrossed  attention  of  the  waiters.  The  land 
lady,  who  was  going  from  one  table  to  another,  came 
to  Felix  as  soon  as  she  had  taken  a  seat  at  one  of  the 
smaller  tables  and  said : 

"Captain  Hawley  tells  me  that  you  expected  to  meet 
Miss  Camden  here.  I  know  her  well.  You  are  Miss 
Bathurst.  She  was  very  much  disappointed  when  you 
did  not  come  last  week  and  thought  as  you  did  not  write 
that  you  could  not  come  at  all." 


406  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"I  was  unavoidedly  detained,  I  was  teaching  the 
Encinal  school  for  Miss  McDonald,  as  another  teacher, 
who  had  agreed  to  come  and  hold  the  position  for  an 
indefinite  period,  failed  to  do  so  in  time.  Mr.  McDon 
ald's  death  released  us  both." 

"Miss  Camden  waited  two  or  three  days  for  your 
coming,  or  a  letter  from  you." 

"Do  you  know  her  present  address,  Mrs.  Knox?" 

"I  do  not,  she  is  in  New  Orleans,  but  I  think  you  can 
easily  get  it,  as  she  has  many  friends  here  who  may 
know.  Mrs.  Knox  gave  the  names  of  several  who 
would  be  apt  to  know.  Felix,  going  to  her  room 
had  barely  reached  it,  when  a  servant  appeared  at  the 
door  with  a  card.  Captain  Hawley  wished  to  meet  her 
in  the  parlor.  She  went  immediately  down.  On  meet 
ing  her,  he  said  cheerily: — 

"Are  you  trying  to  run  away  from  me,  Miss  Bath- 
urst?"  little  thinking  how  near  he  was  to  the  truth. 

"I  am  going  to  New  Orleans  tomorrow,"  replied 
Felix.  "I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  it  is  so  much  a 
matter  of  economy  with  me  that  I  am  hardly  a  free 
agent."  The  Captain  looked  grave. 

"I  sent  for  you  to  say  that,  but  for  my  interest  in 
your  movements  I  also  would  have  taken  passage  for 
New  Orleans.  I  will  go  with  you."  Felix  felt  a  dull 
sort  of  alarm.  His  manner  from  the  first  day  of  their 
meeting  had  been  almost  lover-like,  and  she  had  noticed 
that,  in  a  well  bred  way,  their  traveling  companions 
had  appeared  cognizant  of  the  fact.  This  had  instantly 
caused  a  feeling  of  shyness  on  her  part;  they  would 
soon  part — it  was  nothing — she  would  have  nought  to 
do  with  love  and  lovers  in  all  her  life  to  come.  But 
she  would  not  forget  how  agreeably  she  had  been  im 
pressed  by  the  personality  of  this  man. 

She  had,  in  a  hurried  reckoning,  asked  her  father  for 
only  the  probable  amount  for  expenses  to  Galveston 
and  throughout  the  time  of  her  visit  there.  Not  then 
having  decided  where  she  would  go  afterwards.  Miss 
Camden  had  written  that  if  the  terms  were  satisfac- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  407 

tory,  she  herself  would  take  the  part  of  principal  of 
the  newly  founded  school.  But  that  fact  would  not 
interfere  with  the  pleasure  of  her  visit,  as  for  a  time 
at  least,  there  would  be  but  one  assistant.  "And  you, 
Felix,  I  am  sure,  will  not  object  to  helping  me  until 
I  can  procure  another.  By  this  arrangement  we  can  be 
together  at  all  times  of  the  day."  Thinking  of  this 
she  looked  upon  Miss  Camden's  absence  as  a  double 
disappointment,  felt  all  the  more  acutely  because  it 
would  deprive  her  of  a  much  needed  rest.  Her  strength 
had  been  severely  taxed  by  the  exciting  and  untoward 
events  of  the  past  few  weeks ;  and  she  was  congratulat 
ing  herself  upon  her  escape  from  a  network  of  mis 
fortunes,  which  made  her  life  seem  one  of  hypocrisy 
and  deceit. 

Having  with  her  own  regained  self -approval,  placed 
herself  beyond  the  reach  of  persecution  and  insult, 
there  was  to  her  mind,  no  other  cause  for  elation;  for 
though  it  was  true  there  was  no  longer  anything  to 
hide  from  her  father,  she  felt  that  though  her  own  sin 
might  not  be  so  great  as  Berenger's,  there  was  only  a 
shade  of  difference.  Scarcely  tasting  the  dainties 
placed  before  her  in  the  dining-room,  she  hurried  away 
to  her  private  apartment  to  see  how  much  money  she 
had  left — reproaching  herself  for  not  taking  the  pre 
caution  of  asking  her  father  for  enough  to  cover  the 
expenses  of  all  such  emergencies.  Prevented  by  Capt. 
Hawley's  message,  she  would  yet  look  into  this  and 
then  go  out  and  find  Miss  Camden's  address. 

Having  accepted  the  impression  that  their  compan 
ionship  would  end  at  Galveston,  there  was  a  note  both 
of  surprise  and  embarrassment  in  her  question — 

"You  are  going  to  New  Orleans,  Capt.  Hawley?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  told  you  I  lived  there,"  he  said,  as 
if  a  little  put  out.  "Mrs.  Knox  told  me  of  your  inten 
tion  and  I  will  go  with  you.  But  I  want  to  ask  you 
several  questions;  and  then,  before  we  proceed  any 


408  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

further  I  will  tell  you  something  more  about  myself. 
You  wished  to  get  a  teacher's  place  here,  and  you  were 
disappointed  because  of  your  friend's  absence  ?" 

"A  teacher's  place? — I  might  say  that — for  a  short 
time  at,  least,"  she  replied — concluding  at  once  that 
Mrs.  Knox  had  given  him  this  impression.  "Eventually, 
I  expected  to  go  to  New  Orleans." 

"Do  you  intend  to  teach  in  New  Orleans?" 

"I  do  not  know,  I  have  not — I  cannot  plan  so  far 
ahead." 

"Miss  Bathurst,  I  have  a  little  girl,  six  years  old. 
At  present  she  is  in  the  care  of  a  distant  relative,  a 
very  religious  and  dignified  person,  who  with  her  hus 
band  lives  at  my  place  in  New  Orleans.  My  little  girl 
is  now  of  an  age  when  something  more  than  the  care 
of  these  old  people,  becomes  a  necessity.  I  have  thought 
of  a  governess — would  you  take  such  a  position?"  he 
asked  with  a  blush. 

Felix,  pausing  to  consider  the  proposition,  he 
added : — 

"I  am  often  away.  It  may  be  said  I  am  habitually 
away.  You  can  make  your  own  terms."  He  had  not 
expected  to  feel  so  embarrassed. 

"It  is  not  that  which  makes  me  hesitate,  Capt.  Haw- 
ley,  I  am  only  in  doubt  of  my  own  ability.  I  have  had  but 
little  experience  with  children — very  young  children," 
she  said,  thoughtfully — considering  that  as  soon  as 
this  interview  was  over,  she  would  probably  get  Miss 
Camden's  address,  something  which  in  prudence  she 
ought  to  have,  before  leaving  for  New  Orleans.  Upon 
hearing  that  she  had  left  Galveston,  she  decided  to  fol 
low  at  once,  although  she  knew  that  her  aunt  would 
in  future  live  in  South  Carolina.  She  would  not  go 
back  to  the  Guadalupe.  Was  it  best  to  answer  now, 
or  wait  until  her  arrival  in  New  Orleans  ?  There  would 
be  nothing  gained  by  waiting. 

"I  will  take  charge  of  your  little  girl,  Capt.  Hawley, 
and  do  my  best,"  she  at  length  answered.  "But  I  can 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  409 

not  promise  over  three  months  of  my  time.  My  father 
intends  going  back  to  live  in  South  Carolina  in  Decem 
ber.  I  may  or  may  not  be  influenced  by  that." 

Capt.  Hawley  at  this  point,  thought  of  the  step 
mother  as  the  probable  stumbling  block  in  her  path 
way.  This  misconception  was  due  to  the  remark  of 
the  German  horse  dealer,  Rheinhardt;  and  he  was 
under  the  impression  this  dainty  and  exquisitely 
beautiful  girl,  was  compelled  to  earn  her  living. 
"Sweet  as  it  is,"  he  thought,  "I  never  saw  a  face  so 
dominated  by  pride."  But  it  was  the  kind  of  pride  one 
likes  to  see  in  a  mother  or  sister. 

How  glad  he  was  to  be  able  to  help  her !  This  agree 
ment  would  in  a  manner,  place  her  under  his  imme 
diate  protection.  He  would  promote  her  comfort  and 
happiness  to  an  extent  bounded  only  by  conditions 
over  which  he  had  no  control.  She  was  one  whose 
respect  and  friendship  it  would  be  an  honor  to  win  and 
keep.  He  would  do  both. 

He  would  begin  in  the  right  way. 

"Miss  Bathurst,  I  must  be  still  more  frank  with  you. 
I  feel  that  it  is  due  to  you  as  well  as  to  myself,  that 
you  know  more  about  me ;  now  that  we  will  be  obliged 
in  a  manner,  to  live  in  closer  companionship." 

"I  was  married  in  India,  about  seven  years  ago ;  my 
wife  being  a  native  of  that  country.  I  was  then  twen 
ty-nine  years  old ;  she,  my  senior  by  seven  years.  Three 
years  after  our  marriage,  while  living  in  England, 
she  left — deserting  her  child  and  returning  to  India. 
The  facts  in  the  case  both  before  and  after,  pointing 
to  an  elopement,  formed  sufficient  grounds  for  a 
divorce;  for  which  I  applied  at  once." 

"But  the  courts  of  England  are  slow,  and  it  was  not 
until  about  two  and  a  half  months  ago  that  a  decree  was 
rendered  in  my  favor.  A  very  fortunate  delay  for  me, 
as  it  proved — for  a  month  later  I  inherited  a  fortune. 
I  am  happy  to  say,  a  very  large  fortune." 


410  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


"I  am  a  soldier  by  profession,  and  as  we  rate  things 
in  England  of  good  family.  I  believe  you  know  now, 
the  best  and  the  worst  of  me." 

A  short  discussion  relative  to  the  time  of  departure 
from  Galveston  and  arrival  at  New  Orleans,  and  Felicia 
returned  to  her  room. 

She  at  once  began  to  question  the  propriety  of  her 
hasty  acquiescence.  After  examination  she  found  she 
had  enough  money  for  her  passage  to  New  Orleans, 
and  to  answer  her  needs  until  she  could  write  to  her 
father. 

But  why — oh,  why,  had  she  done  this!  Would  it 
help  her  father?  Did  he  now  need  aid  of  any  kind? 
Why  not  take  what  money  she  had  and  go  back  home? 
No,  she  would  not.  She  would  write  to  her  father  and 
post  the  letter;  after  which  she  would  see  Miss  Cam- 
den's  friends  and  get  the  former's  address. 

She  began  her  letter  immediately — writing  hurriedly 
and  nervously.  After  telling  him  what  she  had  done, 
she  added : 

"I  know,  my  darling  father,  that  this  is  not  obliga 
tory.  I  know  that  you  would  prefer  that  I  would  go 
on  to  Charleston.  But  is  it  not  better  that  I  spend 
this  waiting  time  in  helping  you ;  and  by  helping  my 
self  to  lessen  the  great  expense  of  moving  by  water  our 
great  family  of  negroes?  It  will  help  to  make  our 
independence  doubly  sure.  I  have  a  feeling  of  having 
been  hasty,  but  do  not  imagine  it  worse  than  I  have 
written."  When  Paul  had  read  so  far,  he  put  down  the 
letter  and  walked  to  and  fro  in  great  perturbation 
for  many  minutes ;  and  when  he  had  finished  reading 
the  remainder,  he  answered  it  forthwith ;  writing  with 
a  rapidity  born  of  great  inward  excitement. 

"I  am  glad  you  thoughtfully  gave  me  your  future 
address,  my  darling  child,  for  when  I  read  your  dear 
letter,  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  restrain  myself 
from  following  you.  I  could  not  describe,  neither  could 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  411 

you  I  fear  comprehend  my  feelings.  Nor  can  I  under 
stand  yours: — unless  in  some  way  you  have  acquired 
or  inherited  a  passionate  love  of  teaching  others." 

"For  the  first  time  in  many  years  I  am  free  from 
debt.  When  I  go  back  to  Charleston  I  will  begin  with 
a  good  bank  account.  You  read  your  grandmother's 
letter  in  which  she  expresses  her  intention  of  giving 
me  a  deed  to  the  old  Bathurst  plantation,  which  with 
its  acres  of  woodland  is  a  fortune  in  itself.  All  this 
you  knew,  Felicia,  and  yet  you  have  done  this !  It  was 
for  your  sake,  much  more  than  for  that  of  Basil  or 
Kaspar  that  I  so  rejoiced — my  Andrea's  only  daugh 
ter — the  idol  of  our  hearts!" 

"Write  to  me,  Felicia,  that  you  will  get  some  one 
to  take  this  place  or  leave  it  outright — or  I  will  come 
myself  and  take  you  away." 

A  week  later  when  this  letter  was  given  to  Felicia 
by  Capt.  Hawley,  she  read  it  and  returned  it  to  him, 
requesting  him  to  read  it  also. 


When  Felicia  again  returned  to  her  hotel  after  post 
ing  the  letter  to  her  father,  she  found  that  she  had  for 
gotten  the  other  part  of  her  errand,  and  was  still 
ignorant  of  Miss  Camden's  address.  She  returned  and 
after  some  difficulty  succeeded  in  obtaining  it.  She 
was  becoming  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  might  break 
down. 

The  wrench  of  parting  with  her  father  in  this  par 
ticular  way,  had  been  agonizing.  She  had  been  unable 
to  sleep.  And  for  a  day  or  two,  at  times  her  thoughts 
would  get  beyond  her  control — she  could  not  concen 
trate  them  long  enough  to  form  a  plan.  "Was  it  really 
true?  Archie's  assertion?  Was  she  really  unable  to 
walk  alone?"  That  had  touched  her  pride. 

Until  quite  late  in  the  night  perplexing  thoughts 
repeated  themselves — coming  in  chaotic  confusion.  At 
times  resolving  to  go  home — calling  herself  a  moral 
coward — afraid — not  of  anyone — but  of  her  own  weak 


412  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

will.  She  would  have  recalled  the  letter  to  her  father, 
if  possible : — believing  now  that  he  would  be  hurt  and 
perhaps  even  angry  with  her. 

Her  promise  to  Capt.  Hawley?  That  amounted  to 
nothing — she  would  tell  him  she  had  changed  her  mind 
— write  home  for  a  check  and  go  to  her  former  gov 
erness,  Miss  Boling  of  New  York. 

This  thought  quieted  her  more  than  all  the  others; 
imagination  bringing  up  a  renewal  of  the  once  happy 
days  spent  in  the  society  of  this  dearly  loved  friend; 
and  perhaps  the  night  mail  would  bring  a  letter  from 
Miss  Camden.  So  dreaming  she  fell  asleep — forget 
ting  on  the  morrow  as  do  others  in  like  affliction,  the 
thoughts  of  yesterday.  'Felicia  went  to  New  Orleans. 


The  night  boat  from  New  Orleans  brought  no  word 
to  Felicia,  but  Capt.  Hawley,  who  had  found  a  heavy 
mail  awaiting  him  on  his  arrival,  got  one  letter  marked 
post  haste;  this  he  read  with  knitted  brows  and  com 
pressed  lips.  Today  there  had  been  smooth  sailing. 
The  first  day  of  their  voyage  had  been  somewhat 
rough,  but  not  enough  so  to  condemn  them  to  quarters 
below.  Felix  had  not  on  that  day  met  her  escort  except 
at  table.  The  next  morning  she  was  too  ill  to  appear 
at  breakfast,  but  was  able  to  be  up  at  dinner.  A  little 
while  before  sunset,  Captain  Hawley  sent  for  her  to 
join  him  on  deck.  They  were  a  few  hours  from  New 
Orleans.  Felix  immediately  complied  with  his  request. 
Seated  in  comfortable  chairs,  after  a  few  words  on 
commonplace  topics,  he  said  abruptly: — 

"Miss  Bathurst,  I  am,  I  fear,  about  to  surprise  and 
shock  you;  but  I  hope  the  peculiar  conditions  which 
surround  us  both,  will  help  you  to  forgive  me.  We 
have  known  each  other  but  a  few  days — but  that  we  do 
know  and  understand  each  other  thoroughly,  I  be 
lieve.  A  woman  of  such  rare  beauty  as  yours,  can 
not  have  reached  even  the  age  of  twenty-one  without 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  413 

having  become  acquainted  with  its  power  over  men. 
There  is  nothing  which  exercises  so  powerful  an  in 
fluence;  and  when  united  with  intellect  and  every 
womanly  virtue — it  is  irresistible."  Moving  nearer, 
and  resting  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  chair,  he  said 
earnestly : — 

"I  have  been  much  about  the  world.  I  have  seen 
thousands  of  women.  I  have  known  many  who  were 
beautiful,  but  I  have  never  before  met  one  who  has 
so  touched  my  heart.  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  you,  Capt.  Hawley,"  she  replied, 
with  a  look  of  dull  astonishment  and  distrust.  I  do  not 
know  what  to  think  of  you." 

"You  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  me?  I  will  tell 
you  the  contents  of  a  letter  I  received  yesterday  morn 
ing.  It  was  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morgan,  the  people 
who  had  charge  of  my  little  daughter,  telling  me  that 
the  child  had  been  stolen  by  her  mother,  and  that  after 
a  search  lasting  three  days  and  nights,  they  had  just 
learned  that  the  woman  had  sailed  for  Europe  on  the 
same  boat  that  brought  her  to  New  Orleans."  He  told 
her  that  the  suddenness  of  the  heavy  blow  had  stunned 
him,  but  thinking  it  over,  the  hope  that  she  would  not 
neglect  or  mistreat  her  own  child,  would  uphold  him 
until  he  could  come  to  some  agreement  with  her  as  to 
the  future  of  the  little  girl.  He  was  determined  not  to 
leave  that  in  the  hands  of  such  a  mother.  He  learned 
also  from  this  letter,  that  this  woman  would  give  trou 
ble  about  the  divorce ;  but  that  would  be  a  mere  annoy 
ance,  as  he  was  assured  the  decree  would  stand  any 
test.  But  everything  considered  he  might  have  to  go 
to  England.  It  will  now  be  improper  to  live  in  the 
the  way — in  the  way  at  first  proposed,  and  I  love  you 
too  well  to  give  you  up." 

"Now,  why  is  it  that  you  do  not  know  what  to  think 
of  me?" 

"Because  of  several  things ;  I  mean  what  I  say,"  she 
replied  confusedly. 


414  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

This  was  true  in  every  sense,  for  after  her  employ 
ment  as  governess  in  his  family,  she  had  dismissed  her 
fears  as  to  his  intentions  meaning  other  than  pity  for 
her  forlorn  condition.  She  was  quite  sensible  of  its 
forlornness,  and  there  was  something  like  self-ridicule 
in  her  mind  when  she  reflected  upon  her  first  misin 
terpretation  of  its  friendly  advances.  A  man  of  family, 
wealth  and  position,  belonging  to  a  country  wherein 
they  meant  so  much,  would  hardly  be  so  rash. 

"I  see  I  have  shocked  you;  you  have  not  thought 
even  of  such  a  possibility — but  surely  this  it  not  an 
unusual  experience." 

"I  have  never  been  as  much  surprised." 

"Will  you  think  about  it? — or  perhaps  you  are  re 
pelled — there  is  sometimes  an  antipathy.  Is  it  so  bad 
as  that?" 

"Antipathy!  I  never  before  was  more  quickly  at 
tracted  by  anyone.  Before  I  saw  you,  when  you  put 
your  shawl  around  me — I  liked  you.  I  did  not  see 
you  until  next  morning,"  she  said,  with  a  pretty  little 
laugh.  "But,  Captain  Hawley,  you  cannot  love  me — 
really  love  me — love  is  the  growth  of  years.  It  is  not 
like  a  mushroom  to  spring  up  in  a  night.  I  do  not  want 
you  to  love  me  like  that." 

"Indeed,  and  just  why,  may  I  ask?"  somewhat  net 
tled.  A  quick  change  of  feeling  took  place — she  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

"Because — because  I  want  you  for  my  friend." 

"I  will  always,  always  be  that — not  a  mushroom 
friendship  either.  There! — I  have  been  too  abrupt, 
or  there  is  some  one  else.  Is  it  not  true  that  you  have 
chosen  someone  else,  and  that  you  know  you  could  not 
consider  me  at  all?" 

"Only  as  a  dear  friend — whose  proposal  is  an  honor," 
said  Felix  slowly — "and  I  have  not  chosen.  I  think 
it  is  safe  to  say  I  will  never  marry  anyone."  She  half 
rose,  intending  to  go  below. 

"Don't  go  yet,  Miss  Bathurst.  I  have  known  some 
of  the  happiest  marriages  follow  the  briefest  engage- 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE;  ROUTE  415 

ments — and  some  of  the  most  miserable  after  long 
courtships.  Think  again.  I  have  told  you  all.  There 
is  no  one  else — there  is  no  antipathy — you  might  in 
time  come  to  love  me.  You  hinted  that, — did  you  not? 
— 'the  growth  of  years,'  you  said.  Do  you  think  me 
too  old?" 

"Thirty-six  years  is  not  old.  I  would  not  take  you 
to  be  so  old  as  that.  In  no  way  can  I  find  fault  with 
you." 

"Then  do  not  be  too  hasty  in  your  decision  against 
me.  My  dear  friend,  try  to  understand  what  it  means 
to  me.  For  though  favored  by  fortune,  as  I  have  al 
ready  told  you,  of  late  years  I  have  by  no  means  been 
a  happy  man.  It  will  help  you  to  know,  when  I  tell 
you  that  a  first  view  of  your  face — when  you  raised 
your  veil  on  the  first  morning  after  we  met  not  half 
a  dozen  days  ago — brought  me  again  in  touch  with  an 
other  world — a  world  of  youth  and  hope  which  I  had 
resigned  with  indifference  and  without  desire  to  regain 
its  forgotten  pleasures." 

Felicia  was  looking  dreamily  out  upon  the  wide,  mov 
ing,  waving  waste  of  waters  like  one  who  had  not 
heard. 

"I  know  you  as  well  now,  as  I  would  after  a  lifetime. 
You  know  me.  I  am  asking  you  a  serious  question, 
Miss  Bathurst,  coming  so  soon  after  meeting;  but  I 
know  we  will  be  happy  from  first  to  last." 

"I  know  that ;  anyone  would  he  happy  always — own 
ing  such  a  friend." 

"Then  I  will  begin  by  taking  care  of  you  at  once," 
he  said,  the  ghost  of  a  smile  playing  about  his  hand 
some  mouth.  The  presence  of  others  preventing  the 
usual  tribute,  he  pressed  her  hand  and  said  in  a  low 
voice : — 

"You  will  be  my  dear  wife?  I  may  take  care  of  you 
always?" 

"Tell  me  that  you  will."  She  withdrew  her  hand 
abruptly. 


416  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Captain  Hawley — :  I  told  you  I  had  chosen  no  one; 
that  is  true,  for  it  was  not  a  matter  of  choice;  but  it 
is  not  frank.  I  have  been  in  fault;  so  much  in  fault, 
that  you  will  know  how  much  I  appreciate  the  regard 
you  have  shown  me,  when  I  say  that  I  have  neither  told 
my  father  nor  others  almost  as  dear."  She  told  him 
briefly  all  that  had  occurred  since  her  first  acquain 
tance  with  Berenger,  and  her  reasons  for  not  taking 
anyone  into  her  confidence ;  keeping  back  nothing  per 
tinent;  neither  excusing  nor  incriminating  either  her 
self  or  her  lover,  but  asserting  facts  in  the  fewest 
words.  After  a  silence  of  several  minutes,  Felix  spoke 
again : — 

"Did  I  make  myself  understood,  Captain  Hawley?" 

"Yes,  thoroughly.  You  succeeded  in  deceiving  only 
those  in  whom  it  would  have  been  most  natural  for  you 
to  confide;  for  it  appears  known  to  many  others — 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood,  in  fact?" 

"Just  as  I  said,"  she  answered;  then  adding,  "Why 
should  I  have  troubled  my  dear  mother  with  such  a 
thing  at  such  a  time? — or  after  her  death,  my  father? 
And  how,  Captain  Hawley,  can  you  call  it  deceit?" 

"How,  indeed — looking  at  it  in  that  way.  A  danger 
ous,  imprudent  young  man — and  a  reckless  one.  I  know 
the  type.  Now,  your  uncle?  Wouldn't  it  have  been 
wisest — " 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  My  uncle 
would  not  even  argue  about  it ;  besides  I  know  what  he 
would  have  said." 

"I  think  I  do,  also.  But  it  would  have  been  better  for 
you  if  you  had  told  him." 

"It  wouldn't.  I'm  not  going  to  tell  him  when  I  get 
to  Charleston."  Captain  Hawley  laughed,  boyishly. 

"Then  you  are  going  on  to  Charleston?"  As  Felicia 
made  no  reply,  he  continued  gravely :  "With  your  per 
mission,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  of  what  you  have 
told  me."  Felix  bowed. 

"Putting  myself,  my  hopes  and  my  wishes  entirely 
outside  the  question.  You  evidently  agree  with  me 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  417 

when  I  say  this  man  has  no  cause  for  deserting  his 
family.  He  may  go  back  to  them;  his  wife  desires  it, 
and  as  he  is  an  attractive  and  lovable  person,  his  little 
sons  will  miss  him  in  a  grievous  way.  You  have  just 
told  me  you  believe  it  to  be  his  duty?" 

"I  most  assuredly  do,"  said  Felicia,  pale  to  the  lips, 
and  with  agonized  look  of  renunciation — drawing  her 
mantle  over  her  head  and  shivering. 

In  the  gathering  shadows  of  approaching  night, 
Captain  Hawley  failed  to  see  her*  emotion. 

This  time  there  was  a  silence  of  many  minutes.  A 
few  stars  began  to  show  through  the  drifting  clouds, 
and  the  wind  was  rising.  Captain  Hawley,  who  had 
risen,  reseated  himself. 

"You  have  not  yet  answered  my  question." 

"But  you  will  withdraw  your  proposition,  now  that 
you  know?" 

"No!  A  thousand  times,  no!  But  before  you  an 
swer,  tell  me  if  you  think  your  father  would  approve 
— if  the  others  you  love  so  well  would  approve."  She 
looked  at  him.  The  graceful  form,  the  beautiful  head, 
were  those  of  a  youth;  in  the  flickering  starlight,  the 
dark  eyes  bent  so  earnestly  upon  her,  had  all  the  subtle 
fascination  and  eagerness  of  youth. 

"Say,  Felicia,  do  you  think  they  would  like  me?" 

"Like  you?  Perhaps  more  than  like  you.  My  father, 
Basil  and  Daisy — would  approve.  The  others? — No." 

"Your  father,  Basil  and  Daisy — your  brother  and 
your  sister  are  your  immediate  family : — to  what  would 
your  uncle  and  the  others  object?" 

"You  are  a  divorced  man,  Captain  Hawley.  Daisy 
is  a  brother ;  I  have  no  sister.  There  has  never  been  a 
divorce  granted  in  South  Carolina." 

"Then  we  will  be  married  in  New  Orleans." 

The  waning  twilight  changed  into  moonlight,  reveal 
ing  immeasurable  distances  of  sky  and  ocean,  and  out 
lining  in  a  dull  way  their  place  of  meeting;  to  the  left 
lay  the  harbor  of  New  Orleans  with  its  line  of  steamers 

14 


418  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

and  shipping  extending  for  seven  miles  on  either  side. 
There  was  a  rush  from  below  to  the  hitherto  abandoned 
deck.  They  were  no  longer  alone. 


Captain  Hawley  would  be  compelled  to  go  to  Eng 
land.  It  was  on  the  fourth  day  after  their  marriage 
before  'Felix  received  a  letter  which  had  lain  uncalled 
for  until  that  time ;  her  father's  letter — the  one  quoted 
on  a  preceding  page.  This  she  read  and  giving  it  to  her 
husband,  requested  him  to  read  it  also. 

After  reading  he  sat  with  it  open  in  his  hands,  look 
ing  dreamily  out  of  the  window ;  then  refolding  it,  gave 
it  back  to  her. 

"The  idol  of  our  hearts — our  only  daughter,"  he 
repeated  with  moistened  eyes.  "Who  better  than  I 
could  feel  and  know  what  that  means.  Write  to  him, 
Felicia,  and  tell  him  to  have  no  further  anxiety — tell 
him  everything.  Inclose  the  printed  notice  of  our  mar 
riage,  but  say  nothing  of  the  cause  of  my  visit  to  Eng 
land.  I  thought  you  had  a  step-mother;  and  I  fear  I 
have  made  other  mistakes.  I  have  been  tortured  with 
the  thought  of  having  forced  your  decision  at  a  time 
when  your  physical  condition  would  naturally  make  it 
impossible  for  you  to  reason  clearly  upon  a  matter  of 
such  vital  importance.  Could  you  tell  me  that  in  my 
haste — in  my  headlong  infatuation,  that  I  have  not 
ruined  your  happiness  ?" 

"I  can.  But  I  must  also  tell  you  that  it  is  probable 
that  both  for  your  sake  and  my  own,  I  would  have  re 
fused  your  offer  under  other  circumstances ;  yet  I  was 
not  so  ill  that  I  could  not  mentally  debate  upon  the 
question,  and  I  remember  now  what  arguments  I 
brought  to  bear  upon  it ;  so  I  do  not  see  that  what  has 
been  done  need  trouble  us;  it  was  so  plain  a  mistake 
on  your  part,  and  so  far  from  making  me  more 
wretched,  it  has  given  me  a  peace  to  which  I  had  long 
been  a  stranger.  It  has  given  me  a  settled  position, 
by  putting  an  end  to  my  fears.  There  will  be  no  dif f i- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  419 

culty  in  recognizing  the  quality  of  our  duties — they 
are  as  plain  as  if  laid  out  on  a  map.  I  am  glad  to  find 
there  are  other  men  like  my  father  and  my  uncle 
Darius,  and  whose  sense  of  honor  is  the  same  as 
theirs."  As  he  had  risen,  she  looked  up,  and  met  for 
answer  a  loving,  grateful  glance  from  the  beautiful 
dark  eyes.  They  were  constantly  busy;  spending  sev 
eral  days  in  examining  his  papers ;  she,  surprising  him 
with  her  marve'lous  quickness  in  understanding,  classi 
fying  and  reducing  to  order  all  she  touched. 

"Will  you  write  every  week?"  she  asked. 

"I  will  write  every  day  if  you  wish  it."  On  the  last 
day  she  had  hung  about  him  anticipating  every  want — 
packing  his  valise  and  even  brushing  his  clothes.  When 
the  time  of  parting  came,  he  said,  "Do  not  give  way  to 
a  moment's  despondency.  When  your  father  comes  to 
see  you,  explain  to  him  why  I  am  in  England  and  that 
I  am  confident  of  success.  Of  course  he  will  under 
stand  that  it  should  go  no  further.  It  may  look  strange 
to  you,  but  I  want  to  say  that  I  have  never  in  my  life 
been  so  happy  as  now."  Felix  had  told  him  of  the 
Robinson  episode.  "I  am  glad  you  told  me  of  this, 
Felix.  Your  father  can  be  told  of  my  trouble." 

In  conformance  to  the  wish  of  Captain  Hawley,  Felix 
had  written  to  her  father  and  grandmother  and  the 
family  at  "The  Pines" — inclosing  notices  of  her  mar 
riage  and  photographs  of  her  husband.  To  these  she 
had  received  most  loving  and  affectionate  replies.  The 
following  December  her  father  came,  and  as  Hawley 
had  requested,  she  told  him  of  what  had  compelled 
the  return  to  England.  Paul  without  hesitation  an 
swered  : — 

"Felicia,  you  have  told  no  one  else?" 

"Captain  Hawley  cautioned  me  to  tell  no  one  but 
you." 

"Still,  I  think  it  will  be  better  for  Darius  to  know  of 
it.  Do  you  think  I  might  tell  him?" 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Felicia.  "I  would  like  Uncle 
Darius  to  know  it." 


420  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"That  accounts  for  the  difference  in  Felicia's  let 
ters,  which  none  of  us  could  understand.  A  divorced 
man. — It  is  most  serious" — said  Darius,  when  he  had 
been  told. 

"I  met  in  New  Orleans  many  of  his  friends  of  such 
class  and  number,  as  to  set  at  rest  any  doubts  of  his 
social  standing — besides,  as  you  know,  he  is  of  good 
family  and  repute  in  England,  and  as  an  officer  in  the 
British  regular  army,  he  has  done  good  service  in 
India.  Barrington  told  me  that  he  knew  him  in  Cal 
cutta." 

"Nevertheless,  it  may  trouble  them  for  years,  this 
divorce — and  what  a  precipitous  thing  that  marriage 
was — how  old  is  he,  Paul?" 

"Thirty-six." 

"Nearly  as  old  as  I  am  and  a  man  of  the  world !  He 
might  have  waited  the  other  two  weeks.  If  that  suit 
goes  against  him,  Felix  will  be  in  a  hell  of  a  predica 
ment,"  said  Darius,  gravely. 

"He  is  sure  of  a  final  decision  in  his  favor." 

"Knocking  around  the  world  for  several  years,  I  have 
been  absorbing  a  few  lax  theories  which  are  sometimes 
considered  as  indications  of  broad-mindedness — I'm 
afraid  this  will  bring  me  back  to  the  old  way  of  think 
ing — that  divorces,  like  duels,  could  be  avoided;  and 
that  the  laws  of  this  old  state  are  wise." 

"I  am  sorry  you  feel  so  deeply  about  it.  Hawley 
looks  upon  his  release  as  certain.  Felicia  gave  me  the 
outline  of  the  case,  from  first  to  last,  as  Hawley  gave 
it  to  her — and  I  am  convinced  also.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  Darius,  since  what  you  like  to  call  my  'scrape' 
took  place,  I  am  not  in  love  with  the  divorce  laws  of 
South  Carolina;  there  should  be  some  allowances  and 
laws  made  for  the  protection  of  idiots  and  imbeciles — 
when  not  under  the  care  of  their  natural  protectors." 

"Very  good,  Paul ;  I  am  sure  neither  you  nor  Hawley 
come  under  such  heading — so  don't  be  afraid  I'm  not 
ready  to  welcome  him  into  our  family.  I  can  see  from 
his  picture,  that  he's  a  splendid  fellow, — if  a  rash  one. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  421 

Felicia's  rare  beauty  is  his  justification  in  this  one  act 
— and  I  would  have  picked  out  just  such  a  chap  for  her 
husband,"  he  said,  reaching  for  Hawley's  photograph, 
which  lay  on  the  table  before  him. 

Paul  Bathurst  was  once  more  settled  in  the  home 
which  he  had  left  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  full  of 
youth  and  hope,  and  owning  all  else  that  makes  up  the 
best  in  life. 

The  ordinance  of  secession  had  been  passed  in  nearly 
all  the  Southern  States,  and  it  was  a  fixed  fact  that  all 
the  others  would  follow.  The  certainty  of  war  was 
beyond  a  doubt. 

Darius,  beginning  in  time,  having  secured  his  com 
mission,  left  South  Carolina  with  a  single  troop  of 
cavalry,  intending  to  raise  a  regiment  in  the  northern 
parishes  of  Louisiana  and  southern  Arkansas.  Basil 
joining  him  in  Tennessee  with  two  additional  troops, 
when  he  reached  his  destination  the  number  amounted 
to  a  third  of  that  required,  and  the  balance  was  soon 
made  up. 

"I  have  at  last  got  everything  in  good  shape.  A  regi 
ment  of  picked  men — I  had  them  all  out  yesterday. 
The  grandest  sight  I  ever  saw!"  he  wrote  to  Paul. 
"Basil  did  himself  credit.  It  is  yet  uncertain,  but  I 
think  we  will  be  ordered  to  Virginia." 

Captain  Hawley  had  now  been  more  than  three 
months  absent.  His  return  was  daily  expected. 

In  the  third  week  of  January  he  came — the  wharf 
was  crowded  with  people;  and  the  streets  of  New 
Orleans  resounded  with  the  sound  of  martial  music, 
and  with  the  war-like  tramp  of  soldiers.  Squads  of 
men  in  gay  new  uniforms  were  being  drilled  on  the 
squares.  Bodies  of  laborers  were  at  work  on  entrench 
ments.  New  Orleans  had  begun  to  look  like  a  vast  mili 
tary  camp. 

"I  have  been  out  three  evenings,  to  meet  you,"  said 
Felix,  when  they  had  entered  their  carriage. 


422  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  was  detained  just  that  many  days,"  he  replied, 
smiling.  "Are  you  ready  to  start  at  a  moment's 
notice?" 

"I  am.  I  have  done  everything.  I  have  neglected 
nothing.  I  have  coaxed  our  relatives  into  a  willingness 
to  stay — at  first  they  were  alarmed  about  the  war-like 
movements  in  the  city,  and  wanted  to  leave  at  once." 

"They  are  pleasantly  situated  and  have  many 
friends.  It  is  best  for  them.  I  have  kept  you  well 
posted  about  the  affair  on  hand,  and  of  course  you 
know  that  though  certain  of  release,  I  am  not  yet 
free." 

"Yes,  I  know,  and  there  will  have  to  be  some  busi 
ness  talk  on  my  part,  but  only  in  explanation  of  de 
tails,  which  would  have  been  too  lengthy  if  told  by 
letter,  for  I  have  everything  in  good  shape." 

"We  will  have  a  couple  of  days,  and  I  will  be  in  New 
York  for  a  week,  so  there  is  no  need  of  haste — at  least, 
none  that  I  know  of;  still  it  is  best  to  be  ready  for 
emergencies.  With  this  in  view,  he  held  a  conference 
with  the  Morgans  about  his  plans  for  them,  which  em 
braced  a  part  of  their  future  if  not  their  whole  lives. 
He  would  again  leave  them.  They  would  stay  behind 
and  take  care  of  his  property  in  New  Orleans.  But 
he  thought  it  best  to  leave  'Felix  in  New  York.  As 
acting  on  the  defensive,  any  part  of  the  South  might  be 
a  future  battle-ground.  "If  you  feel  like  it  will  be 
going  into  the  enemy's  country,  say  so,  Felix,  and  I 
will  make  another  arrangement." 

"I  will  be  neutral  whenever  the  question  comes  up, 
and  hold  my  tongue  at  other  times.  I  will  go  where 
you  wish  me  to  go." 

The  wharf  was  crowded.  It  was  growing  dark  and 
the  lamp-lighters  were  busy  on  the  by  streets,  not  yet 
lit  up  by  gas.  A  row  of  hackney  coaches  were  in  line. 
There  was  a  delay.  Felix  stood  resting — leaning  on 
the  back  end  of  one  of  the  hacks.  Captain  Hawley 
standing  not  far  away  was  surrounded  by  friends  who 
had  come  to  see  them  off.  A  man  went  hurriedly  past, 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  423 

followed  by  a  lady,  two  little  boys  and  a  nurse ;  the  lat 
ter  laden  with  parcels.  The  lady  leading  the  younger 
child  and  followed  by  the  older  boy  and  the  nurse,  went 
down  to  the  landing.  The  man  first  going  to  a  side 
light  to  look  at  some  money — paid  the  driver.  Turn 
ing  hastily — he  was  face  to  face  with  the  group  around 
Captain  Hawley. 

"Archie  Berenger!  Where  are  you  running  to?" 
called  out  Hawley. 

"Captain  Hawley!"  he  exclaimed — grasping  the  ex 
tended  hand  warmly.  "I  heard  you  were  in  England. 
When  did  you  return?" 

"Yesterday  evening — but  I  go  again  to-night.  I'm 
waiting  for  this  Englisher  to  pull  out.  I'm  taking  my 
wife  with  me.  "Felix!"  he  called — wishing  Berenger 
to  see  her. 

Berenger  started  visibly,  and  looked. 

She  had  stepped  forward  and  was  staring  at  them 
— the  light  falling  full  on  her  face. 

"I've  not  a  moment  to  lose,  Hawley,  I'm  not  going 
— going — you  know, — and  I'm  needed  down  there." 
Raising  his  hat  he  turned  hurriedly  towards  the 
steamer. 

"When  did  you  get  back  from  the  west?"  called 
Hawley  after  him. 

"I  left  Texas  a  week  ago.  All  the  English  are  get 
ting  out."  The  loud  tones  of  the  Captain  and  crew 
warning  him  of  the  near  departure  of  the  ship  he  ran 
swiftly  out  of  sight. 

The  English  vessel  was  gone.  The  American  was 
steaming  in  to  take  her  place.  Captain  Hawley  was 
still  with  his  friends.  Berenger,  walking  rapidly  and 
looking  about  him  cautiously,  saw  Felicia  seated  upon 
a  goods  box — one  of  many  piled  in  huge  heaps  close  by, 
waiting  transportation.  She  had  sought  this  place 
overcome  by  the  unexpected  meeting.  Keeping  out  of 
sight  he  went  directly  to  her.  Sitting  down  beside  her, 
he  took  her  hand,  but  quickly  released  it.  She  tried 


424  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

in  vain  to  utter  some  word  of  greeting,  but  could  not 
speak.  But  for  this  there  was  no  need.  For  he  began 
at  once  to  reproach  her. 

"How  could  you,  Felix!  My  God!  How  could  you 
do  it!  I  would  have  sworn  it  wasn't  in  you — that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  you  to  perpetrate  such  a 
wrong."  He  arose  and  standing  in  front  of  her  for  a 
moment  or  two,  turned  as  if  going  to  leave — and  then 
faced  her  once  more.  Covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  she  sat  bowed  and  shrinking. 

"But  I  suppose  you,  as  you  once  cheerfully  advised 
me,  will  do  your  whole  duty.  You  will  be — to  quote 
your  own  words,  mentally  and  morally  sustained  by 
the  certainty  of  being  in  the  right  path.  The  thing 
will  be  made  easier  to  do  by  the  discretion  used  in  your 
selection  of  a  victim  for  the  experiment." 

"John  Hawley — of  all  men  the  best !  He  is  also  quite 
handsome,  not  old — and  more  than  comfortably  rich." 

His  anger,  showing  plainly  from  the  first — now  in 
creased  to  rage ;  and  bending  over  her,  he  said : — 

"Mrs.  Hawley,  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  what  you 
are?  You  are  a — No,  I  will  not  say  that — but  you  de 
serve — you  deserve — " 

He  said  no  more,  but  roughly  taking  Felix  by  both 
hands,  drew  her  suddenly  to  her  feet,  and  shaking  her 
furiously  by  the  shoulders,  released  her  with  a  force 
that  sent  her  staggering  against  the  heap  of  boxes,  to 
which  she  caught,  fortunately  preventing  a  fall.  Giv 
ing  a  moment  to  righting  herself,  she  said  in  cool  hard 
tones : — 

"Archie,  you  are  wrong  in  all  your  conjectures.  I 
am  not  to  blame — in  the  way  you  think.  You  gave  me 
no  chance  to  explain;  and  now  I  never  will — never!" 

He  had  at  first  stood  still  as  if  turned  into  stone. 
Now  that  he  heard  again  the  loved  voice — it  was  no 
longer  Mrs.  Hawley  who  stood  before  him — it  was — 
oh,  what  had  he  done !  It  was  Felix ! 

He  started  towards  her. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  425 

She  was  not  without  physical  courage,  but  from  the 
first  moment  of  meeting  she  had  been  afraid  of  what 
he  might  do  or  say.  She  had  wondered  and  sorrowed 
over  the  probable  effect  her  marriage  would  have  upon 
him;  but  she  had  never  imagined  anything  like  this. 
She  was  humiliated — not  in  the  least  on  her  own  ac 
count,  but  that  the  man  she  had  loved  almost  from  his 
boyhood,  had  done  this  thing.  What  else  might  he 
not  do?  She  saw  him  approaching,  and  without  more 
ado,  she  ran  swiftly  around  the  huge  pile  of  freight 
and  down  to  the  landing.  It  had  all  occurred  in  less 
than  twenty  minutes. 

A  little  way  off,  Berenger  saw  Captain  Hawley  look 
ing  for  his  wife. 

"I  saw  Mrs.  Hawley  going  in  the  direction  of  the 
steamer,"  he  told  him  with  something  in  his  manner 
and  voice,  the  lauer  neither  understood  nor  liked. 

"Good  bye,  Archie,  I'm  sorry  I  have  no  more  time 
to  give  you." 

"Felix,  before  coming  into  full  view  of  the  waiting 
crowd,  had  stopped  breathless  and  trembling.  Here 
she  was  joined  by  her  husband.  She  glanced  back 
ward  to  the  right  and  saw  Berenger  walking  in  the  op 
posite  direction  going  from  her.  She  watched  him  in 
the  dim  lamp-light  until  he  disappeared — knowing  this 
to  be  the  end  of  the  sweetest  part  of  her  life — the  best 
part — and  with  all  its  bitterness  the  happiest  part. 
"May  our  Heavenly  Father  be  with  him  and  protect 
him  always,"  was  the  unspoken  but  heartfelt  blessing 
that  followed  him.  "That  chapter  is  closed,"  she  said, 
thinking  aloud  as  was  sometimes  her  habit  when 
strongly  moved. 

"But  there  will  be  another,"  replied  Captain  Hawley, 
believing  she  referred  to  leaving  New  Orleans. 

Soon  the  American  was  ploughing  the  waters  in  the 
wake  of  the  English  vessel. 


426  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

Seeing  his  wife  comfortably  settled  in  New  York 
City,  Captain  nawley  being  called  to  Washington  on 
a  matter  of  business,  after  a  flying  visit  to  that  city 
returned  to  ^ngland. 

"You  must  send  me  one  letter  a  week  anyhow, 
Felix ;  I  like  your  letters." 

"I  will  do  better,"  she  replied  with  a  gratified  smile. 
"I  am  sure  of  time  enough  to  write  daily,  at  least  un 
til  Miss  Boling  comes  home;  after  that  I  will  be  going 
about  a  little."  Miss  Boling  was  on  a  visit  to  the 
West. 


The  meeting  with  Berenger  in  New  Orleans  was  in 
one  way  fortunate.  It  was  alive  with  suggestions. 
One  of  them  was  that  they  might  never  be  mere 
friends.  The  feeling  on  both  sides  was  the  same — so 
deeply  rooted  that  it  was  alike  in  one  way,  to  the  nat 
ural  ties  of  kindred  blood. 

But  the  path  of  duty  was  plain;  and  would  be  un- 
obstrcuted  as  long  as  they  did  not  meet.  It  was  prob 
able  this  would  not  often  happen.  It  was  possible  it 
might  never  occur  again  in  life. 

The  agony  of  parting  had  been  the  same  as  that  at 
Bethlehem  several  years  ago — but  with  the  difference 
of  knowing  how  such  trials  are  to  be  borne.  This  was 
better  than  to  lose  him  forever  by  death.  It  was  best 
to  know  that  somewhere  in  the  world — he  lived.  And 
that  sometime  in  the  dreary  years  to  come,  he  might 
think  of  her  without  reproach. 


Throughout  the  time  of  Captain  Hawley's  first  visit 
to  England,  Felicia  had  enjoyed  nothing  in  that  sad 
interval,  so  much  as  she  did  their  correspondence.  Now 
that  she  might  write  something  which  would  both 
cheer  and  amuse  him,  she  kept  a  journal — taking  daily 
walks  through  the  city — picking  up  whatever  was  most 
worthy  as  material  for  these  tri-weekly  letters.  With 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  427 

the  assiduity  of  a  newspaper  reporter  she  worked  to 
this  end.  It  was  an  occupation.  This  was  the  dear 
pleasure  gained  from  the  replies — together  with  her 
reading — for  she  was  a  frequenter  of  bookstores, 
formed  her  chief  solace  and  prevented  the  loneliness 
which  might  have  resulted  from  her  voluntary  isola 
tion;  for  she  had  found  it  prudent  to  make  no  new 
friends.  That  he  was  pleased  with  her  letters,  she 
was  given  to  know  by  the  replies,  which  were  always 
written  immediately  on  their  reception  with  extraordi 
nary  punctuality. 

After  a  time  she  took  up  again  the  art  of  cooking, 
begun  some  years  before  at  Charleston:  this  fascinat 
ing  work  now  confined  to  dainty  little  dishes  for  her 
self,  though  from  the  first  always  attended  with 
thoughts  of  her  husband,  who  now  an  invalid,  would 
perhaps  always  be  so. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  efforts  to  the  contrary,  the 
feeling  of  being  an  alien — not  merely  as  an  alien  in  a 
foreign  country — but  in  the  enemy's  country;  even  as 
her  husband  had  feared.  Of  late  she  had  met  at  every 
turn,  hot  words,  derisive  epithets  and  general  denun 
ciation  of  her  country  and  countrymen.  At  first  she 
had  turned  a  deaf  ear,  telling  herself  that  it  was 
quite  likely  that  her  own  people  were  as  abusive  and  in 
considerate  ;  and  that  after  all  it  was  aimed  at  no  one 
in  particular;  but  all  the  same  it  was  growing  monot 
onous;  so  much  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  be  in  a 
wholly  foreign  country. 

Of  late  she  had  heard  of  nothing  but  disaster  and 
loss — of  invasion  and  ruin. 

Soon  the  time  arrived  when  she  could  no  longer 
communicate  with  her  people;  when  this  became  a 
recognized  fact,  a  wild  longing  seized  her.  She  must 
hear  from  them — her  dear  father  and  brothers — her 
no  less  loved  uncle,  and  her  aunts,  now  old  and  alone 
in  a  country  invaded  by  a  brutal  soldiery.  She  had 
not  thought  it  possible  until  now,  that  she  might  never 
meet  them  again.  Her  father  had  joined  a  company 


428  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

made  up  of  his  old  college-mates  and  other  friends; 
that  was  a  comfort ;  but  why  had  she  not  thought  of  all 
this  before.  She  blamed  herself  for  having  so  readily 
agreed  to  so  wide  a  separation.  The  importance  of 
it  was  accentuated  by  a  remembrance  of  the  real  rea 
son  for  it,  given  by  Captain  Hawley  when  bidding  her 
good  bye. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  consented  to  this  change  of 
residence,  Felix.  I  do  not  believe  I  could  survive  the 
horrors  of  the  next  few  months  if  I  had  to  think  of 
you  as  living  in  constant  danger;  for  your  section  of 
country  has  already  been  invaded  and  will  be  the 
battle-ground  in  this  struggle  and  perhaps  be  over 
run." 

She  could  not  bear  it.  She  would  write  to  him  that 
she  would  take  prudent  care  of  herself,  but  she  would 
go  home.  In  answer  he  gave  his  consent,  advising  her 
to  go  first  to  Washington;  he  had  good  cause  to  hope 
that  he  would  soon  be  able  to  meet  her  there.  She 
gathered  up  her  belongings,  and  taking  Karpen  with 
her  went  at  once.  Karpen  was  a  middle-aged  German 
woman  whom,  in  her  walks  about  the  city,  she  had 
found  in  a  state  of  abject  want  and  misery,  at  the  point 
of  starvation  and  almost  an  imbecile  in  mind.  The 
woman  had  refused  to  leave  her  and  almost  against 
her  will,  she  finding  her  clean,  and  capable  as  a  ser 
vant,  had  accepted  her  in  that  capacity.  With  a  feel 
ing  almost  amounting  to  certainty  she  believed  that 
sooner  or  later  they  would  live  at  Washington ;  a  house 
belonging  to  them  was  vacant.  Keeping  Captain  Haw- 
ley  duly  posted  as  to  her  intentions  and  movements, 
she  gave  orders  to  have  it  put  in  good  condition,  and 
leaving  Karpen  there,  made  the  rest  of  the  journey 
alone;  a  dangerous  one  she  knew,  but  not  till  the  end 
of  it,  was  she  conscious  of  the  many  possible  escapes 
she  may  have  made.  It  was  over  three  weeks  before  it 
was  accomplished. 

It  was  only  by  easy  stages,  going  as  a  visitor  from 
one  neighborhood  to  another  that  she  had  been  able 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  429 

to  get  over  the  ground  at  all.  But  she  was  going  to 
meet  her  dear  grandmother,  her  aunts,  and  Basil's 
young  wife  whom  she  had  never  seen.  Besides  there 
were  a  thousand  questions  to  ask  about  others — the 
dear  friends  who  had  hitherto  made  up  her  world. 

After  another  three  weeks  she  was  again  on  the  way 
back,  cheered  by  the  assurance  that  by  certain  con 
ditions  existing  at  this  time,  she  could  return  in  com 
parative  safety. 

After  an  absence  of  three  months,  Felix  received  a 
letter  from  Captain  Hawley  telling  her  that  he  had 
within  that  hour,  received  confirmation  of  his  decree 
of  divorce.  He  had  hastened  at  the  first  unoccupied 
moment  to  inform  her  of  the  fact,  and  to  insist  on  her 
return  to  Washington.  "There  can  be  nothing  now  in 
the  way  of  our  taking  possession  of  our  dwelling  in 
that  place,  as  the  repairs  ordered  are  completed.  It 
is  safe  and  will  be  agreeable  to  both  as  a  home,  no  mat 
ter  how  the  war  may  end.  If  the  South  won  the  con 
test  she  would  be  pleased.  If  not,  they  would  be  as 
happy  in  one  portion  of  the  union  as  another.  I  will 
not  lose  a  moment's  time  but  will  follow  this  letter 
at  once,  having  only  a  few  more  hours  of  work  to  do 
in  the  way  of  settling  the  expenses  of  the  suit.  Your 
letters,  Felicia,  have  been  my  chief  solace.  If  I  had  not 
loved  you  before,  the  pains  you  have  taken  to  comfort 
me  through  these  long  months  would  have  won  my 
whole  heart.  I  am  coming  to  meet  the  best  and  dearest 
friend  I  have  on  earth.  If,  upon  examining  our  house, 
you  find  any  deficiencies  it  might  be  better  to  stop  at 
an  hotel,  until  these  can  be  corrected.  Do  as  you  think 
best."  In  a  short  time  after  his  return  they  were  re 
married  after  the  manner  prescribed  in  the  ritual  of 
the  Episcopalian  Church,  thus  setting  all  consciens- 
cious  scruples  at  rest. 


430  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  MANSFIELD. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1864.  Darius  had  been  in 
many  battles;  his  regiment  had  fought  beside  the 
"Crescents"  and  "Terre  Bonnes"  at  Shiloh  in  April, 
1862,  and  again  at  Georgia  Landing  later  in  the  same 
year — with  the  "Pelicans"  at  second  Manassas — and 
with  other  regiments  wherever  the  Louisiana  troops 
had  been  sent.  And  now  in  1864,  attached  to  Mouton's 
Divison  he  was  at  Mansfield  awaiting  the  approach 
of  the  enemy.  His  letter  to  his  sisters  bore  the  date 
of  April  the  7th;  and  like  all  other  letters  notifying 
them  of  an  approaching  battle,  was  brief.  It  was  com 
prised  in  a  few  lines.  He  hoped  as  heretofore,  to  be 
able  in  a  day  or  two,  to  assure  them  of  the  safety  of 
all  their  friends  and  relatives  engaged  in  the  encoun 
ter;  if  not — if  the  end  should  be  otherwise,  it  would 
still  be  the  will  of  God. 


The  battle  of  Mansfield  began  rathe'r  late  in  the 
afternoon  of  April  the  8th,  1864.  General  Richard 
Taylor,  C.  S.  A.,  already  on  the  ground  had  taken  a 
position  in  the  edge  of  a  wood  commanding  on  both 
sides  of  the  road  a  clearing  about  1200  yards  long 
and  900  wide,  through  the  middle  of  which  ran  a  deep 
ravine.  This  was  to  be  the  battle-ground.  At  twelve 
o'clock  the  enemy  were  seen  forming  on  a  hill  on  the 
other  side  of  the  clearing.  After  some  hours  of  skirm 
ishing  with  three  regiments  of  Green's  Texas  Cavalry 
and  a  change  of  base  on  part  of  the  Federals,  the  fight 
began  in  earnest.  Mouton's  division  was  ordered  to 
charge.  Crossing  the  field  under  a  galling  fire,  the 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  431 

division  reached  a  stretch  of  low  undergrowth  under 
cover  of  which  they  paused  for  a  moment's  rest,  then 
again  moved  forward.  Their  loss  was  severe.  General 
Mouton  was  killed,  as  were  also  over  a  dozen  officers 
of  high  rank.  Mouton  dead,  Gen.  Polignac  took  charge 
of  his  command,  and  together  with  his  own  brigade 
which  had  suffered  heavily,  pressed  steadily  forward. 
Taylor  with  his  whole  force  pursued  the  Federal  line, 
which  consisting  of  all  the  mounted  force  and  one  di 
vision  of  the  13th  Army  Corps,  was  in  full  flight,  leav 
ing  prisoners,  guns  and  wagons  in  their  wake.  The 
second  division  of  the  13th  Army  Corps  attempting 
to  intercept,  they  too  were  routed. 

Near  sunset,  four  miles  from  the  original  position 
another  obstruction  in  the  shape  of  the  19th  Army 
Corps,  barred  the  way  and  a  struggle  for  possession  of 
a  stream  of  water,  ended  in  favour  of  the  victorious 
army,  and  darkness  closing  over  the  terrible  scene  of 
carnage,  the  battle  of  Mansfield  was  over  for  the  time, 
but  only  to  be  merged  into  that  of  Pleasant  Hill  next 
day. 

Gen.  Taylor  learning  that  there  was  infantry  in  the 
woods  on  the  enemy's  left,  had  sent  Col.  Darius  with 
his  regiment  of  cavalry  to  strengthen  Mouton's  right. 
In  reorganizing  that  night  it  was  found  that  he  was 
missing ;  he  had  been  seen  to  fall  early  in  the  fray,  but 
it  was  asserted  by  the  same  authority  that  he  had  been 
assisted  to  mount  his  horse  and  was  supposed  to  have 
followed  his  regiment.  But  he  had  not  joined  his 
regiment.  A  wounded  prisoner  had  witnessed  a  pistol 
fight  on  horseback  shortly  after  the  first  onslaught; 
it  took  place  a  mile  beyond  in  the  dense  woods  on  Mou 
ton's  right;  the  principals  being  a  Confederate  officer 
answering  the  description  given  of  Darius,  and  a  Fed 
eral  trooper.  He  could  not  say  positively,  as  he  him 
self  was  sorely  pressed  at  the  time,  but  he  thought 
both  officer  and  horse  were  killed,  as  the  man  was  still 
in  the  saddle  when  the  animal  fell. 


432  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

In  the  first  fight,  Darius,  who  had  been  stunned  by 
the  fall,  had  received  but  a  trifling  wound  in  the 
shoulder,  which,  though  it  bled  freely  gave  him  no  con 
cern;  but  falling  upon  his  head,  his  neck  had  been 
wrenched,  and  he  had  been  bruised  and  shaken 
throughout.  Again  in  the  saddle,  he  urged  his  horse 
forward  taking  a  short  cut  through  the  dense  wood, 
in  the  edge  of  which  stood  the  captured  artillery  of  the 
fleeing  enemy.  He  passed  on,  and  as  but  a  few  minutes 
had  elapsed  since  the  firse  onslaught  there  was  still 
some  shooting  among  stragglers ;  a  party  of  these,  un 
der  cover  like  himself,  were  hurrying  to  the  front. 
Partially  blinded  and  with  all  his  faculties  benumbed, 
he  had  failed  to  note  their  blue  unforms.  Before  he 
was  aware  of  it  he  was  confronted  with  a  single 
trooper,  who,  after  separating  himself  from  his  fleeing 
comrades  had  approached  and  challenged  him.  Taken 
aback,  it  took  him  a  moment  or  two  to  collect  his  wits. 
The  soldier  was  close  upon  him  and  with  drawn  pistol ; 
instinctively,  he  at  first  grasped  the  hilt  of  his  sword, 
but  instantly  releasing  it  he  drew  his  pistol.  Both 
men  fired — and  missed.  The  curveting  of  their  horses 
carried  them  several  yards  apart.  Putting  spurs  to 
them  they  again  approached  each  other,  and  again 
though  at  greater  distance  fired  at  once.  Darius 
threw  up  both  hands,  still  clutching  his  pistol;  the 
trooper  fired  again — this  time  wounding  the  horse — 
which  reared,  neighed  and  fell ;  Darius  rolling  over  on 
to  the  ground  beside  him.  After  a  single  glance  the 
trooper  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse  and  disappeared  in 
the  wood. 

Darius  lay  still.  The  horse  after  rising  and  standing 
trembling  on  his  feet  for  a  minute  or  two,  wheeled,  and 
with  loud  and  laboured  breathing  and  with  nose  close 
to  the  ground,  staggered  to  a  branch  nearby  and 
crouching  on  his  knees,  began  sucking  up  the  muddy 
and  blood-stained  water  trickling  scantily  along  the 
tiny  stream,  which  crossing  the  battle-field  above, 
wended  its  way  to  the  ravine  below.  His  thrist 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  433 

quenched  the  horse  again  sank  heavily  to  the  earth. 
Hours  passed,  and  night  further  obscured  the  already 
shade-darkened  spot.  There  was  a  jumble  of  sounds 
in  the  distance,  but  a  deadly  stillness  reigned  here. 
Darius  had  not  moved.  It  was  near  ten  o'clock  when 
a  crackling  of  twigs  a  little  way  off  scared  a  couple 
of  nightbirds  from  their  roost,  and  before  the  flap 
ping  of  wings  had  ceased,  a  man  came  running  by,  his 
body  barely  outlined  in  the  darkness;  he  passed  with 
out  seeing  the  still  form  on  the  ground  and  hastening 
on,  stumbled  on  the  horse;  which  tried  to  get  up,  but 
fell  back  with  a  deep-drawn  breath.  Thus  arrested  he 
turned  the  bull's  eye  of  a  little  lantern  cautiously  on 
the  animal.  It  was  Hipolyte.  Recognizing  the  horse 
he  began  to  search  for  his  master — holding  his  light 
low  on  the  ground.  Finding  Darius,  he  fell  upon  his 
knees  beside  him  with  a  low  groan — feeling  his  hands, 
his  face,  his  feet  and  stiffened  limbs: — then  putting 
his  ear  to  the  pulseless  heart,  he  arose — threw  up  his 
hands  and  reckless  of  all  danger,  uttered  shriek  after 
shriek  of  anguish  and  dismay.  Starting  off  in  the 
direction  from  which  he  had  come,  he  suddenly  re 
turned.  Tearing  off  his  knapsack  and  blankets,  his 
coat  and  vest,  he  took  a  flask  from  his  pocket  and  tried 
to  force  some  brandy  through  the  rigid  lips  and  fast- 
set  teeth ;  this  unavailing  he  began  frantically  to  drag 
off  his  master's  boots,  to  rub  his  feet — his  hands — 
wrapping  him  in  his  own  blanket  and  coat.  Repeating 
over  and  over  again  his  attempts  to  resuscitation,  at 
the  end  of  the  second  hour  he  despaired  and  pulling  up 
a  handful  of  clean  grass  and  mixing  it  with  some  frag 
rant  leaves  from  a  low  growing  shrub  nearby,  he  made 
a  pillow  by  wrapping  it  in  his  vest;  this  he  tenderly 
placed  beneath  his  master's  head.  Wrapping  blankets 
closely  about  him,  and  bending  near  to  take  a  last  look, 
he  fancied  that  there  was  a  returning  warmth  and 
that  he  might  be  breathing.  Again  he  listened  for 
heart-beats.  He  was  sure  of  a  reaction.  It  was  but 
little  over  half  a  mile  to  a  field  hospital — he  would 


434  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

run — he  would  fly!  Fleet  of  foot,  he  skimmed  over 
the  ground,  not  heeding  the  occasional  bullets  which 
whistled  past  him.  There  were  dim  lights  showing  in 
the  distance — lanterns  moving  in  every  direction;  he 
was  nearing  his  goal ;  when  suddenly  there  was  the  near 
report  of  a  rifle — the  whiz  of  a  bullet — and  Hypolite 
stopping,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  leg;  another  shot 
striking  the  button  on  his  cap  with  a  thud  that  stunned 
him,  took  it  off;  and  swaying,  his  leg  bending  under 
him,  he  fell  to  the  ground.  Two  thugs  crept  out  of 
the  clump  of  blackberry  vines  close  by.  "What  does 
it  amount  to,"  said  the  one  to  the  other,  who  was  kneel 
ing  by  the  fallen  man.  "Nothing — it  is  only  a  dead 
nigger !" 


It  was  near  the  hour  of  midnight.  There  was  a 
burst  of  rifle-firing  following  upon  the  boom  of  a 
single  cannon.  It  was  a  signal  agreed  upon  by  the 
Louisiana  troops.  It  told  that  it  was  twelve  o'clock, 
and  that  up  to  that  hour  all  had  been  done  that  could 
be  done.  All  is  well!  The  dead  are  asleep,  the  living 
reunited,  and  the  wounded  being  cared  for. 

As  has  been  written,  the  battle  for  a  time  was  over 
— had  been  over  for  more  than  four  hours.  This  part 
of  the  field  had  been  deserted  by  the  active  forces  for 
a  much  longer  period;  still  at  intervals  the  rippling 
fire  of  rifles  or  the  crack  of  pistols  could  now  and  then 
be  heard.  This  was  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  patrols 
and  aimed  at  the  miscreants  who  under  the  cover  of 
intense  darkness,  regarded  neither  friend  nor  foe  but 
preyed  alike  upon  all  helpless  unfortunates — dead  or 
living.  Basil  and  Kaspar,  though  wounded,  had  set 
out  to  find  Darius.  Leaving  the  field  hospital  at  the 
front  as  soon  as  their  wounds  were  dressed,  they  had 
scoured  the  left  of  the  wide  beaten  track  over  which 
the  two  armies  had  struggled  only  a  little  while  ago, 
and  were  returning  by  way  of  the  right.  They  had 
given  no  thought  to  their  own  safety,  taking  no  pre- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  435 

caution  except  such  as  might  prevent  interruption  or 
hindrance.  Basil  had  not  as  yet  been  greatly  incom 
moded  by  his  hurt,  but  Kaspar  had  not  been  so  fortu 
nate,  yet  though  chilled  and  sore  and  at  times  racked 
with  pain  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  give  up  the 
search. 

They  were  again  nearing  the  front.  Here  was  a 
stretch  of  wood,  uninviting  at  all  times  but  made  more 
desolate  by  the  present  gloom,  yet  men  were  seen 
passing,  singly,  or  occasionally  in  numbers  seldom  ex 
ceeding  twos  or  threes ;  once  a  detailed  Federal  Hospital 
Corps  passed  them.  Too  dark  to  see  their  badges,  they 
stood  quite  still,  hidden  by  intervening  bushes  and 
tangled  vines  until  it  passed ;  then  emerging  they  came 
suddenly  upon  a  number  of  officers  on  horseback, 
grouped  about  three  or  four  others  who  kneeling,  were 
examining  by  the  light  of  a  single  lantern  some  maps 
and  other  papers  spread  out  on  a  blanket  before  them. 
Basil  rode  up  to  the  outskirts  of  the  circle  in  conference 
unchallenged,  and  at  once  made  known  his  errand.  No 
one  of  them  knew  further  than  that  Darius  had  been 
seen  to  fall  from  his  horse;  but  a  man  in  the  uniform 
of  a  general  came  forward  on  foot;  taking  his  way 
through  the  mounted  guard  he  approached  them  and 
said : — 

"You  will  have  to  go  back  at  least  three  miles;  I 
saw  Colonel  Darius  fall.  He  was  seen  afterwards  in 
the  wood  on  this  side  of  the  place  where  Mouton  made 
his  charge;  he  was  badly  hurt;  he  was  not  following 
his  regiment,  but  evidently  did  not  know  what  he  was 
doing." 

It  was  General  Polignac — Prince  Camille  de  Polig- 
nac — a  young  Frenchman  who  came  over,  not  to  look 
on,  but  to  fight — to  help  us;  winning  admiration  by 
his  bravery  and  soldierly  accomplishments,  and  the 
love  of  all  by  his  kindly  disposition.  Looking  earnestly 
through  the  darkness  at  the  pale  anxious  faces  beside 


436 


him — for  recognizing  him,  they  had  saluted — and  dis 
mounting  stood  before  him ;  looking  sharply  at  Daisy, 
he  said: — 

"Take  an  ambulance  with  you,  Captain — " 

"Bathurst,"  said  Basil. 

"Take  an  ambulance  along,  Captain  Bathurst,  and 
have  your  comrade  rest  in  it  as  you  go, — and  hope  for 
the  best." 

An  ambulance  was  soon  found  and  with  more  of  a 
feeling  of  certainty  in  finding  the  object  of  their 
search  the  brothers  again  set  out.  On  their  way  Basil 
took  in  a  surgeon,  a  German  belonging  to  Buschel's  1st 
Texas  Cavalry.  They  trotted  along  briskly. 

"I  think  I  saw  the  man  you  are  looking  for,"  said 
the  German  surgeon  in  answer  to  an  inquiry  from 
Basil,  and  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "We  had  just 
got  in,  but  were  instantly  rushed  into  service;  it  was 
near  or  on  this  little  rise  to  the  left ;  his  regiment  was 
forced  back  several  hundred  yards  from  here,  and 
there  is  a  chance  that  he  has  been  picked  up  before 
this." 

"No,  no,"  said  Basil.  "We  have  been  searching  and 
making  inquiries  for  hours.  I  am  afraid  he  is — badly 
hurt."  Pausing,  looking  back  and  listening  for  a  bit, 
there  was  a  sound  of  fire-arms — distant  but  distinct 
— a  volley,  as  if  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy.  Then 
came  another  sound — a  voice ;  and  though  at  first  with 
meaningless  words,  it  was  appalling  in  its  depth  and 
in  its  wild  significance ;  filling  the  valley  like  the  deep- 
toned  resonant  baying  of  a  hound,  and  as  musical,  even 
in  its  agony,  as  it  rose  out  of  the  gloom  beyond. 

"Ow — ooh!  Ow — ooh!  Ow — ooh — e!"  came  with 
greater  plainness  in  a  loud  shout  or  wail — then  ceas 
ing  for  a  minute  or  two,  began  again : — 

"Kalf  a— dai !  Kalf  a— dai !  Kal— f  a— dai— e— !" 
silent  for  a  much  longer  period  once  more  it  sounded. 

"Bo— bo!  Bo— bo!  Bo— bo— oh- oh— o— ah  !"  muffled  at 
first,  but  rising  to  a  shriek  of  rage  and  defiance. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  437 

"It  is  an  African  tribal  war-cry,"  said  the  German, 
telling  the  driver  to  go  on,  for  they  had  halted. 

"No,"  said  Basil,  still  listening.  It  came  again,  but 
fainter  and  more  distressed.  "Drive  in  the  direction 
of  it.  It  is  Hypolyte,  Daisy." 

"It  was  at  this  point,"  said  Daisy,  pulling  up. 

Again  came  the  sound  in  ten  feet  of  them.  They 
found  him  a  short  distance  from  where  he  had  fallen, 
and  the  surgeon  having  administered  restoratives,  he 
was  able  to  tell  them  where  Darius  lay. 

"Do  you  know  that  he  is  alive?"  asked  the  surgeon. 

"Oh,  I  can  not  tell — but  go !  Go  quick,  Mahse  Basil ! 
I  rubbed  his  neck,  and  the  leaves  I  put  in  his  pillow 
may  help  him  to  live.  But  go  quick!" 

Leaving  Hypolite  in  charge  of  an  assistant,  they 
pushed  on  to  relieve  his  master.  When  they  reached 
him,  Darius,  barely  alive,  was  still  insensible.  It  was 
many  days  before  it  could  be  told  that  he  was  out  of 
danger,  and  many  weeks  before  he  again  appeared  at 
the  head  of  his  regiment,  but  never  in  life  did  he  for 
get  the  fidelity  of  Hypolite.  "He  owes  his  life  to  the 
African,"  said  the  German  surgeon,  "the  spicy  pillow 
was  good;  it  was  also  good  that  he  head  was  raised 
and  the  neck  well  rubbed." 

When  all  hope  was  lost,  and  Darius  went  with  other 
distinguished  Southerners  to  join  the  forces  of  Maxi 
milian  in  Mexico,  he  refused  to  let  this  man  accompany 
him. 

"You  will  be  better  off  here.  Marry  your  sweet 
heart,  Hypolyte,  and  live  among  your  people  in  New 
Orleans.  Everything  is  changed." 

"I  would  rather  go  with  you,  master;  but  she  is  a 
good  girl.  To  me  she  is  beautiful.  Besides  she  is  a 
Kalfadai.  She  has  crisp  hair  and  a  black  skin  like 
mine.  She  has  slim  hands  and  feet.  She  is  the  finest 
of  our  kind.  I  would  marry  no  one  but  a  Kalfadai." 

"I  like  to  hear  you  talk  like  that,  Hypolite,  I  have 
good  reason  to  love  at  least  one  Kalfadai." 


438  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

With  a  look  in  which  was  blended  an  expression  of 
spiritual  worship  with  one  of  the  truest  human  love, 
Hypolite  bade  his  master  farefell,  then  going  to  his 
grandmother's  home  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city,  he 
sat  down  and  began  to  think;  first,  taking  a  small 
leather  purse  from  his  pocket  and  counting  its  con 
tents.  He  laughed;  muttering  to  himself,  "It  must 
have  been  half  of  all  he  had.  It  was  like  him.  It  was 
also  like  me  to  slip  the  bill  into  his  pocket-book  when 
I  brushed  his  coat."  He  sat  smiling  for  some  time. 
Then  arose,  saying  softly: — 

"He  meant  me  well,  but  the  lights  would  all  be  out 
for  Hypolite,  if  he  had  his  way.  I'll  join  him  before 
the  next  new  moon,  if  I  die  for  it.  But  it  takes  money 
to  carry  on  war — honest  money — and  I  know  how  to 
get  it."  

It  was  a  little  less  than  five  years  since  Captain 
Hawley's  return  to  Washington.  The  war  was  said  to 
be  over.  Felix  had  long  been  in  direct  communication 
with  her  family.  There  was  now  at  least  a  weekly  ex 
change  of  letters,  papers  or  packages.  All  had  sur 
vived.  Paul,  serving  throughout  the  war  as  an  in 
fantry  private  soldier,  had  not  received  a  wound. 

Basil  and  Kaspar  had  been  wounded  many  times: 
Kaspar  being  still  on  crutches.  Both  had  the  honour 
of  serving  in  Mouton's  Division ;  which  command  after 
the  death  of  General  Mouton  on  the  battlefield  at 
Mansfield,  had  been  assigned  to  General  Polignac.  It 
was  an  additional  comfort  to  their  father  when  the 
brothers,  who  at  first  belonged  to  another,  were  trans 
ferred  to  their  uncle's  regiment;  Basil  holding  a  cap 
tain's  commission  and  Daisy  a  private  in  the  same 
company. 

Colonel  Darius,  whose  regiment  was  made  up  in 
North  Louisiana  and  Southern  Arkansas,  had  taken 
all  that  was  left  of  it  and  following  Mclver  and  Shelby, 
had  fought  with  the  French  and  Austrians  in  Mexico, 
but  was  now  on  his  way  home. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  439 

Paul  was  living  with  his  mother  in  Charleston. 
Sarah  and  Aurelia  also  in  Charleston,  pending  repairs 
at  "The  Pines."  This  place  was  sacked  and  partly 
burned,  but  the  walls  were  left  intact  and  it  was  being 
restored  and  would  again  be  their  home. 

Samuel  Darius  with  all  his  museum  of  treasures, 
escaped  scot-free.  Uncle  Sam,  according  to  Basil,  hav 
ing  overlooked  Uncle  Sam. 

Paul  wrote: — "How  thankful  we  ought  to  be,  my 
dear  Felicia,  that  it  is  so  well  with  us.  I  grieved  that 
I  was  not  in  the  same  company  which  Basil  commanded 
and  led  with  such  distinction,  but  it  was  the  will  of 
God — and  I  went  my  way  alone.  We  are  once  more 
united  and  all  is  well.  My  sons  will  always  bear  the 
marks  of  hard  military  service;  but  this  is  a  thing  of 
which  to  be  proud ;  and  I  can  not  express  my  excessive 
pride  in  them." 

"I  was  in  all  the  battles  and  skirmishes  of  my  regi 
ment — yet  was  never  touched  by  sword  or  bullet. 
Neither  was  I  ever  ill  for  an  hour.  When  I  find  hardly 
another  such  case  in  our  plucky  little  State,  I  do  not 
know  whether  to  feel  rejoiced  or  ashamed  that  I  bear 
no  honourable  mark  to  show  what  I  have  done.  Your 
grandmother  sends  boundless  love,  and  prays  for  the 
coming  of  the  time  when  she  will  embrace  your  child 
ren.  Most  of  all,  we  wish  to  see  your  boys — especially 
the  twins,  whose  beauty,  wit  and  intelligence  your  aunt 
Aurelia  so  well  describes.  You  must  come  to  us  Felicia 
— for  it  is  not  yet  we  can  come  to  you.  It  will  be  I  fear, 
a  long  time  before  we  can  make  ourselves  decently 
presentable  in  a  place  like  Washington.  My  heart 
yearns  for  you,  my  darling  child — " 

Basil  wrote  in  an  equally  characteristic  manner. 

"You  can  imagine,  Felix,  how  I  would  like  to  meet 
your  husband — your  little  family — relatives  whom  I've 
never  yet  seen — but  hold  back  for  a  while — say  for  a 
few  months ;  for  we  are  yet  in  the  throes  of  what  our 
rulers  are  pleased  to  call  reconstruction,  and  the  read 
justment  is  sometimes  difficult — but  do  not  wait  until 


440  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

we  are  quite  made  over.  We  are  becoming  interesting 
already,  and  it  might  please  you  to  note  the  progress 
of  the  improvement  made  under  such  tuition.  Backed 
as  it  is  by  the  bayonet — the  result  is  often  as  amus 
ing  as  it  is  astonishing;  and  although  the  comic  ele 
ment  sometimes  predominates,  there  is  an  immense 
amount  of  patience  and  resignation  gained  by  the  dis 
cipline  to  which  we  are  subjected;  and  that  you  know 
is  good  for  the  soul.  Some  of  us  bend  our  necks  sub 
missively  for  the  sake  of  the  spiritual  benefit  it  en 
tails — others  perforce — like  the  poor  fellow  under  the 
shadow  of  the  guillotine,  who,  when  asked  by  the  at 
tending  priest  if  he  felt  resigned  to  his  fate,  replied 
that  he  had  to  be — there  being  no  way  out  of  it.  Show 
ing  by  his  honest  answer  a  sort  of  enforced  piety  with 
which  his  conscience  had  nothing  to  do. 

"If  possible,  Felix,  put  me  in  correspondence  with 
Aunt  Effie.  What  has  she  to  say  about — the  last  four 
— horrible  years?  For  or  against — I  know  she  will  be 
honest.  I  know  beforehand,  however,  she  will  align 
herself  with  the  peacemakers;  and  that  she  will  be 
sorry  for  our  fallen  and  ruined  country." 

To  Felicia  these  homely  letters,  written  in  the  old 
familiar  vein,  brought  back  the  past  with  startling 
reality;  and  with  it — it  seemed,  a  part  of  herself — a 
lost  individuality — a  something  missed.  There  had 
been  times  when  she  had  been  incapable  of  reading, 
writing  or  thinking — when  mechanical  work  was  all  she- 
could  do.  A  vacuity  of  mind  which  was  welcomed  as 
something  which  might  help  her  to  forget  one, 
of  whom  not  to  think  would  involve  a  loss  of  mem 
ory  or  of  consciousness.  Sometimes  in  spite  of  all, 
would  come  back  the  picture  of  him,  when,  with  bitter 
est  agony  of  soul,  she  saw  him  walk  beneath  the  dull 
glare  of  a  street  lamp,  going,  as  she  thought,  out  of  her 
life  forever.  She  had  never  heard  from  him  after 
wards  ;  nor  had  she  ever  spoken  of  him  either  by  name 
or  allusion. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  441 

The  parting  in  New  Orleans  was  to  her  a  finality; 
she  did  not  wish  it  otherwise ;  but  the  thought  of  Ber- 
enger's  grief — shown  so  plainly  as  she  construed  it — 
by  his  violent  anger,  pierced  her  heart  like  a  thorn 
whenever  it  came  uppermost. 

These  were  thoughts  to  be  subdued  and  controlled 
by  the  efforts  of  a  strong  will.  There  were  moments 
when  she  felt  again  the  full  force  of  the  denunciation 
uttered  in  St.  Andrew's  church,  a  few  days  before  her 
flight  from  Texas.  It  was  then,  for  the  first  time,  she 
felt  the  true  nature  of  her  sin — and  which,  afterwards 
in  her  unsparing  self-examination  she  told  herself, 
was  that  of  an  illicit  love  which  she  had  fostered  by 
persuading  herself  that  it  could  not  be  helped,  and  that 
if  concealed,  could  do  no  harm.  She  now  felt  that  she 
had  failed  to  conceal  it,  and,  that  it  had  caused  the 
breaking  up  of  a  family.  She  called  to  mind,  that  in 
the  years  preceding  the  great  misfortunes  which  had 
so  nearly  led  to  her  ruin — that  she  had,  by  her  own 
inaction,  favoured  an  intimacy  whenever  and  where- 
ever  by  any  chance  they  had  met;  and  that  she  had 
gone  to  places  with  the  hope  of  meeting  this  man,  who 
whether  to  blame  or  not,  was  the  cause  of  the  blighting 
conditions  which  for  a  time  enveloped  her.  She  felt 
a  pang  of  shame  when  she  remembered  the  fealty  of 
her  loved,  young  companions  who  had  believed  in  and 
so  fearlessly  defended  her.  In  the  course  of  the  events 
which  followed  she  began  to  speculate  upon  what 
might  have  been  her  fate,  had  it  not  been  for  the  grand 
nature  of  the  man,  who,  taking  her  on  trust,  had  so 
hastily  married  her  and  who,  knowing  all,  had  so  kind 
ly  cared  for  her.  Not  of  herself  was  her  thought,  when 
the  lamentable  possibilities  of  what  was  certainly  in 
store  for  her,  were  removed  by  this  interposition  of 
Providence,  but  of  the  consequences,  and  how  they 
would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  those,  her  kindred, 
whom  she  had  loved  with  an  intensity  amounting  al 
most  to  idolatry.  To  whom  do  I  owe  all  this?  she  now 
asked.  Who  has  helped  me  to  be  what  I  am?  The 


442  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

answer  was  one  which  wiped  out  all  other  feelings  but 
one,  from  her  soul.  She  became  engrossed  by  one  su 
preme  feeling.  A  love — a  deathless  love,  for  the  man 
who  had  saved  her — who  had  so  tenderly  cared  for 
her — and  who  had  bestowed  upon  her  his  honourable 
name.  A  feeling  of  worship  exceeded  only  by  that  she 
gave  to  God,  filled  her  whole  heart  and  gave  it  life; 
all  other  feeling  either  lay  dormant  or  became  subject 
to  this.  When  Captain  Hawley  returned  in  1861  he 
had  been  very  ill,  and  had  not  yet  recovered.  He  had 
suffered  by  the  aggravated  delays  of  the  law  which 
had  prolonged  his  stay  in  England.  His  condition, 
although  no  immediate  danger  was  to  be  feared,  was 
alarming  to  his  wife.  On  the  first  hint  of  his  phy 
sician  given  thoughtlessly  in  Felicia's  presence,  Hawley 
had  checked  him  by  a  sign ;  and  although  he  added : — • 
"It  might  not  be  so  serious," — the  words  could  not  be 
recalled.  They  had  fallen  upon  her  consciousness  like 
the  sad  first  note  of  a  funeral  bell.  It  would  be  too 
great  a  tax  upon  the  courage  of  a  heart  already  so  worn 
by  sorrow.  It  would  be  the  crowning  blow !  Captain 
Hawley  saw  the  effect.  He  knew  her  strong  affection 
for  himself.  The  lovely  face — grown  more  beautiful 
to  him  with  every  passing  year — was  one  which  in 
daily  association  he  had  learned  to  read.  The  frank 
expression  of  the  truthful  eyes — the  tenderness  in  the 
touch  of  the  strong  slender  hands  when  he  was  ill,  told 
him  the  kind  and  quality  of  this  affection.  In  all  his 
his  life  he  had  met  nothing  half  so  sweet. 

They  had  seldom  reverted  to  the  unhappy  events  con 
nected  with  their  marriage — and  never  directly.  It 
was  only  by  some  inadvertent  or  unavoidable  allusion 
that  even  the  memory  of  it  was  shown  to  exist.  Once 
only — a  week  or  two  after  his  return  from  England — 
did  Captain  Hawley  frankly  refer  to  it — the  immediate 
effect  being  such  that  the  subject  was  never  revived. 
He  had  been  giving  her  a  detailed  account  of  the  re 
covery  of  his  child,  now  by  agreement  with  the  mother 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  443 

left  in  charge  of  a  brother  officer  in  England.  In 
conclusion,  he  said  in  reply  to  an  expression  of  heart 
felt  sympathy  on  her  part. 

"Nothing  of  it  all  had  any  comparative  weight  with 
the  agony  of  parting  with  my  wife.  It  seemed  too 
heavy  to  bear.  But  from  your  first  rational  moment, 
you  began  to  help  me.  It  might  be  said  that  ours  was 
a  chance  meeting.  I  have  never  believed  it;  but  true 
or  not,  I  have  from  the  first  blessed  the  turn  of 
Fortune's  wheel  which  brought  us  together." 

"What  a  singular  chain  of  circumstances  that  was, 
Felix!  If  any  fellow  had  told  me  a  tale  like  that,  I 
would  have  at  once  fancied  he  had  written  a  novel  and 
was  trying  the  effect  of  one  of  its  scenes  on  me." 

"I  think  many  scenes  in  the  lives  of  all  of  us — would 
if  written — read  like  it,"  she  replied,  shrinking  with 
such  evident  distaste  from  the  subject,  that  he  re 
gretted  having  mentioned  it. 

"I  may  never  speak  of  it  again,  but  you  must  forgive 
me  when  I  say  that  your  repentance  growing  as  it  did 
out  of  a  certain  kind  of  pride,  was  a  long  way  out  of 
proportion  to  your  sin — and  like  the  Christian  of  a 
bygone  period,  giving  it  full  sway  you  might  as  well 
have  put  on  sackcloth  or  resorted  to  other  uncomfort 
able  ways  of  doing  penance.  I  am  glad  it  ended  as  it 
did." 

"So  am  I — I  am  thankful  every  hour  of  my  life  that 
it  ended  as  it  did.  But  I  am  still  of  the  opinion  that 
it  is  as  well  to  wear  sackcloth  as  to  carry  the  weight 
of  a  guilty  conscience.  If  the  wearing  of  any  kind  of 
a  garment  would  take  away  that,  I  would  recommend 
it." 

"Conscience!  A  species  of  guilty  pride,  you  might 
better  say.  You  had — perhaps  unconsciously — come 
to  believe  yourself  above  the  common  frailties  of 
humanity." 

"No — never  that !  I  had  come  to  know  myself  pretty 
well.  I  have  not  yet  lost  the  knowledge.  Neither  will 
I  ever  lose  the  picture  of  what  I  might  have  become 


444  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

but  for  an  interposition  of  Providence  which  placed 
my  fate  in  the  hands  of  a  man  like  you.  You — who, 
though  appearances  were  all  against,  believed  what  I 
told  you  and  took  me  in.  I — "  She  could  go  no 
further. 

"There — don't  worry  about  it — I  deserve  absolutely 
no  credit  for  that.  It  suited  my  inclination  to  "take 
you  in"  as  you  name  it,  so  well —  that  nothing  could 
have  induced  me  to  have  done  otherwise.  Besides,  you 
have  a  wrong  idea  of  how  it  really  affected  me.  It 
having  only  crossed  my  mind  that  it  might  be  so — the 
thought  being  rejected  in  a  moment;  my  only  concern 
being  how  much  our  past  troubles  would  affect  our 
mutual  happiness  in  the  future.  I  am  sorry  I  brought 
up  the  subject,  Felix,  and  we  will  drop  it  forever." 

This  was  near  five  years  ago ;  but  the  stirring  events 
— the  shifting  scenes  of  the  intervening  years  made  the 
time  appear  to  have  been  longer  and  to  have  worked 
many  more  than  its  usual  wonders. 

They  were  sitting  by  an  open  window  of  the  drawing- 
room  ;  the  door  of  connection  with  the  hall  being  closed, 
they  had  heard  no  one  enter.  There  was  a  sound  of 
voices,  but  not  heeding,  they  went  on  with  their  own 
conversation,  which  was  relative  to  a  long  delayed 
business  visit  to  New  Orleans;  delayed  first  from 
prudential  motives  connected  with  the  active  move 
ments  of  both  armies  in  those  parts.  Captain  Hawley 
was  in  nowise  afraid  to  undertake  the  journey;  but  his 
wife  had  firmly  refused  to  consent  to  it ;  asserting  that 
he  was  not  strong  enough  to  brave  the  possible  dangers 
of  such  a  journey  at  such  a  time.  In  this  she  was  up 
held  by  his  physician.  Now  that  it  was  safe,  she  would 
go  with  him;  but  not  until  he  was  stronger — for  of 
late  he  had  grown  much  weaker.  The  voices  in  the 
hall  continuing,  there  was  heard  also,  laughter — fa 
miliar  in  sound,  at  least  to  Felicia ;  for  she  went  hastily 
and  opened  the  door. 

Someone  was  talking  to  the  twins. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  445 

"Who  are  you?"  said  a  fresh  young  masculine  voice. 

"We  are  Captain  Hawley's  little  boys,"  both  speak 
ing  at  once. 

"What  are  your  names?    Which  is  which?" 

"I  am  James  Bathurst,"  said  one. 

"No,  he  isn't,"  said  the  other.  He  always  says  that 
— I'm  James  Bathurst — he's  Paul  Bathurst." 

"So  you  don't  really  know  who  you  are." 

Felicia  approaching  the  group  saw  the  small  slight 
figure  of  a  young  Confederate  soldier,  leaning  lightly 
on  a  crutch  as  he  stood  in  the  hall  door-way.  She  did 
not  know  him.  He  smiled. 

"Oh,  Daisy,  it  was  the  moustache !"  she  cried — run 
ning  towards  him.  "Oh,  Captain  Hawley,  it's  Daisy!" 

Capt.  Hawley  coming  to  greet  him  said: 

"It's  Daisy; — our  little  soldier: — "  taking  the  slim 
dark  hand,  held  out  to  him;  looking  in  the  boy's  face 
and  falling  into  the  petting  tone  of  all  who  came  in 
contact  with  him.  Felix  was  weeping. 

"It  was  always  like  that,"  said  Kaspar,  as  limping 
across  the  hall  he  took  a  seat  beside  her  until  she  had 
recovered  her  composure.  "It  is  like  Aunt  Sarah," 
he  said,  "who  weeps  equally  for  joy  or  grief." 

"Who  is  your  brother  like,  Felix?"  asked  Captain 
Hawley,  who  had  been  intently  regarding  Kaspar's 
singularly  winning  features. 

"He  is  like  father,  though  not  so  tall;  none  of  the 
others  resembled  father  so  much.  Their  voices  are 
the  same;  when  I  went  to  the  door,  I  almost  thought 
father  had  come: — there  is  so  little  difference."  The 
children  came  trooping  in.  Kaspar  could  not  with 
draw  his  eyes  from  the  twins. 

"Sister,  tell  me  which  is  James — and  which  is  Paul : 
— these  young  men  could  not  agree.  It  is  like  Felix 
and  Felicia  used  to  be." 

"One  of  them  has  more  decision  than  the  other.  I 
have  to  look  well  at  them  before  I  can  tell  them  apart. 
They  are  both  named  for  father.  Paul  knows  himself. 
James  is  always  confused.  We  put  a  riband  on  them 


446  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

every  morning,  but  they  do  not  like  it  and  take  it  off. 
Sometimes  when  that  is  the  case,  their  identity  is 
known  only  to  myself  and  Karpen ;  who  knows  that,  if 
she  knows  nothing  else.  Of  late,  they  often  refuse  to 
tell  their  names." 

"How  funny!"  said  Kaspar,  laughing.  "And  the 
baby's  name?" 

"The  baby's  name  is  Darius, — Kaspar  Darius,  after 
my  little  brother  and  my  Uncle: — and  here  comes  my 
oldest,  who  can  tell  you  himself  what  he  is  called." 

The  boy  walked  directly  up  to  Kaspar,  who  held  out 
his  hand.  "I  learned  all  their  names  by  letter — but 
that  is  only  half  an  introduction : — 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am,"  looking  into  the  child's 
face, — laughingly. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  heard  Nelly  say  my  uncle  had  come : — 
you  are  my  Uncle  Daisy." 

"That's  right:  and  what  is  your  name?" 

"John  Hawley,"  standing  squarely  upon  his  legs, 
and  straightening  himself  proudly.  By  some  strange 
fatality,  he  resembled  Berenger. 


"Captain  Hawley,  Uncle  Darius  will  be  at  home  in 
October.  We  want  you  to  be  there.  You  will  be  better 
for  a  winter  there.  My  father  says  the  old  house  at 
"The  Pines"  will  please  you ;  it  will  be  restored  to  ex 
actly  what  it  was.  My  grandmother,  Mrs.  Bathurst, 
bade  me  tell  you  that  she  wished  to  see  you,  before  she 
dies.  Grandmother  has  been  speaking  thus  intimately 
of  death  for  many  years,  so  that  we  may  not  feel 
shocked  when  it  comes.  She  is  an  old  French  lady, 
Captain  Hawley,  I  know  you  will  like  her." 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  it,  Kaspar;  and  I  am  certain  I 
will  grow  better  for  a  visit  there — already  I  feel  the 
effects  of  it  in  anticipation." 

"Kaspar  is  persuading  me  to  go  to  Charleston,"  he 
remarked  to  Felicia,  who  entered  the  room  at  that 
moment.  "He  has  succeeded  in  arousing  an  enthusiasm 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE;  ROUTE  447 


at  the  prospect.  Everything  will  be  quiet  at  the  time 
proposed; — and  Felicia,  if  I  improve,  we  can  go  on  to 
New  Orleans, — see  the  Morgans  and  perhaps  relieve 
them  by  selling  out.  We  can  just  as  well  establish  them 
in  Washington,  or  send  them  to  England,  if  they  prefer 
it." 

"I  think  they  will  prefer  it  although  they  have  many 
friends  in  New  Orleans."  The  Hawleys  were  going 
to  Charleston.  "If  I  improve — I  will  go  to  Charleston 
and  New  Orleans.  Is  not  that  what  I  said,  Felicia? — 
It  is  near  the  time  and  I  have  improved  daily.  I'm  sure 
the  coming  of  the  boy  has  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
It  is  good  to  have  the  young  and  happy  about  us.  I 
have  enjoyed  his  quaintness  in  speech  and  general 
character." 

"Kaspar's  grammar  is  not  always  of  the  best,  but 
it  couldn't  be  helped — though  a  strong  effort  was 
made." 

"It  will  go.    Let  us  keep  him,  Felix." 

"Father  would  never  part  with  him ; — but  how  glad 
I  am  that  you  like  him.  I  feel  that  it  will  be  the  hap 
piest  time  of  my  life — this  visit." 


448  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  GHOSTLY  ADMONITION,  COMING  ON  THE 
HEELS  OF  A  RIOT. 

Darius  had  stayed  with  his  men  until  he  could  no 
longer  be  of  service  to  them,  and  disbanding  in  Louis 
iana  had  just  got  home.  The  war  in  Mexico  was  still 
going  on,  and  the  country  at  home  was  still  under 
martial  law,  with  hostile  military  forces  present  where- 
ever  necessary  to  enforce  it. 

Quoting  from  history: — "In  1865-66,  the  people  in 
and  round  about  Charleston  were  trying  to  pick  up  a 
bit,  and  to  recover  a  little  from  the  ravages  of  war. 
Not  very  hopefully  or  with  much  buoyancy  of  spirit, 
their  efforts  might  be  said  to  be  the  result  of  inherited 
stubbornness;  so  often  had  this  devoted  city  been  the 
scene  of  battle; — not  between  human  forces  alone  but 
with  those  of  fire  and  the  unseen  elements  which  pro 
duce  earthquake."  History  had  again  repeated  itself, 
and  besides  was  offering  some  new  and  crude  to  the 
annals  of  the  world,  which  in  common  parlance  was 
named  "reconstruction."  Darius  had  come  to  town 
and  Captain  Hawley  had  come  also.  They  were  walk 
ing  along  the  battery.  The  day  before  had  been  spent 
in  reviewing  the  harbour  and  the  forts  on  the  island 
outlying  the  mainland.  Both  being  soldiers,  their  talk 
had  naturally  drifted  to  battles  and  battle-fields,  and 
Darius,  after  telling  the  number  of  battles  fought  with 
in  the  borders  of  South  Carolina  since  the  year  1640, 
remarked : 

"Ours  has  always  been  a  brave  little  State,  Captain 
Hawley.  In  our  overwhelming  defeat  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  remember.  I  believe  every  soldier  in  the  coun 
try  did  his  duty." 

"I  was  convinced  of  that  while  traveling  through 
the  upper  counties  on  my  way  here.  I  hardly  met  a 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTK  449 

man  who  did  not  bear  the  mark  of  a  wound — a  leg  or 
an  arm  gone,  was  the  usual  disfigurement — but  often 
a  sabre  cut  or  an  eye  lost." 

"It  is  the  fortune  of  war,"  said  Darius  sadly.  "To 
make  the  best  of  it,  will  be  our  duty  undeniably,  but 
even  with  a  generous  foe,  the  part  will  be  a  difficult 
one.  The  ruin  has  been  so  complete,  and  the  end — to 
many  of  us — so  unlocked  for.  My  regiment  had  been 
but  a  few  days  in  Arkansas  when  the  announcement 
came.  It  was  but  a  fractional  number  of  what  it  had 
been,  but  it  had  a  bewildering  effect  on  all  of  us.  The 
married  men,  of  course,  knew  what  to  do,  and  were 
glad  to  lay  down  their  arms;  but  those  who  had  not 
these  nearer  ties  to  draw  them  homeward,  eagerly 
seized  the  opportunity  for  leaving  a  land  which  at  best, 
they  thought  would  be  a  prison  for  some  years  yet. 
They  were  mostly  men  of  the  upper  classes — men  who 
knew  nothing  of  manual  labor,  and  who  in  the  last  four 
years  had  been  converted  into  soldiers,  and  were  noth 
ing  but  soldiers,  and  what  would  become  of  them !" 

"This  was  my  first  thought.  I  had  become  so  sin 
cerely  attached  to  them  all.  Would  it  not  be  best  to 
join  the  forces  of  Maximilian?  Mclver,  we  heard,  had 
turned  up  there ;  Shelby  and  others  were  on  their  way. 
I  proposed  it  to  my  men.  They  were  unanimously  in 
favor  of  it.  We  followed  the  leaders  and  were  soon 
on  the  ground,  ready  for  whatever  fate  might  have 
in  store,  but  it  would  be  hard  to  define  our  feeling  of 
disappointment.  The  difficulties  tending  this  expedi 
tion  were  beginning  to  be  understood  by  Maximilian 
even  before  the  time  of  our  joining  it — and  a  longer 
time  yet  by  the  European  powers  who  had  instigated 
and  who  still  encouraged  it.  It  took  but  a  look  to  show 
some  of  our  own  experienced  officers  where  we  stood." 

"To  be  a  foreign  or  hired  soldier  is  to  begin  as  a 
subordinate,  take  it  as  you  will — private  or  officer. 
We  were  made  to  feel  it.  We  were  under  and  from 
under,  and  in  many  cases  the  degredation  was  such 
as  would  beggar  description;  and  had  not  it  been  for 

15 


AI.ONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


the  influence  of  Maximilian  upon  our  officers,  and 
through  them,  upon  the  men — every  man  jack  of  us 
would  have  got  out  of  the  country  before  the  first 
month  had  expired — prefering  to  be  shot  to  putting 
up  with  the  fresh  humiliations  coming  with  each  suc 
ceeding  day.  Maximilian,  apart  from  the  high  class 
of  humanity  to  which  he  belongs,  is  a  natural  man — a 
man  to  love.  Fitted  by  nature  to  lead,  he  appeals  to 
the  same  manly  qualities  in  others  by  which  he,  him 
self,  is  guided  and  governed." 

"Until  dismissed  early  in  the  present  month,  we  did 
our  duty.  Then  with  a  passionate  longing  for  home, 
we  bade  farewell  to  our  beloved  leader  and  friend — 
knowing  that  he,  too,  would  gladly  turn  his  back  upon 
it  all." 

"When  about  to  embark  at  Vera  Cruz  for  New  Or 
leans,  we  heard  that  he  and  his  faithful  Austrians 
were  at  Orizaba  and  were  going  home,  knowing  the 
man  we  doubted  it, 'but  could  not  help  hoping  and  pray 
ing  that  it  was  true ;  but  he  is  still  in  Mexico,  determ 
ined  as  we  thought  he  would  be,  to  stay  and  share  the 
fate  of  his  Mexican  followers.  Anyone  familiar  with 
the  military  history  of  the  country,  will  not  have  to 
guess  what  that  will  be." 

Darius  proceeded  to  give  a  brief  acount  of  the  state 
of  affairs  in  Mexico,  and  both  he  and  Hawley 
as  soldiers,  being  intensely  interested  in  the  subject 
had  become  oblivious  to  all  else,  and  were  not  aware 
that  they  were  becoming  the  center  of  attraction  to  the 
apparently  few  idlers  lingering  about  the  grounds, 
who  had  begun  to  collect  in  a  group  about  three  or 
four  men  in  citizens'  clothes  who  had  just  got  out  of 
a  skiff ;  one  of  them  had  called  out  in  loud  threatening 
tones,  but  they  had  neither  looked  nor  heeded.  The 
party  after  having  been  increased  by  the  advent  of  a 
half-dozen  Federal  soldiers — young  fellows  recruited 
in  the  Northwest,  two  or  three  months  before  the  war 
— were  coming  nearer.  One  of  the  soldiers,  a  hand 
some  fresh  complexioned  youth,  wore  a  corporal's  uni- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  451 

form;  the  spokesman,  a  man  of  huge  stature,  called  to 
him  as  he  and  his  companions  were  about  to  leave  and 
began  speaking  with  great  earnestness.  The  words, 
"Why  can't  you  arrest  them?'  were  heard  both  by 
Darius  and  Captain  Hawley,  but  did  not  claim  their 
attention.  They  continued  to  walk  to  and  fro  along 
the  parapet. 

"It  would  be  a  piece  of  foolishness ;  plenty  of  people 
have  been  in  and  out,  looking  at  the  fortifications; 
the  rules  have  not  been  so  strict  since  the  close  of  the 
war.  I  think  these  men  live  here;  I'm  pretty  certain 
the  one  with  the  gray  coat  does: — the  other  one  may 
be  a  foreigner,  but  I've  got  no  authority  to  arrest  any 
body." 

"Foreigner — I  would  say  so — who  has  got  author 
ity?" 

"The  officer  of  the  day — Captain  Renfro  and  his 
squad.  I  haven't  been  on  duty  for  a  week.  They'll  be 
back  directly,  they're  eating  their  supper  up  there," 
pointing  up  the  street. 

"But  you  can  hold  these  men  till  they  come?" 

"I'm  sure  it  is  not  necessary." 

"Then  I'll  do  it  myself." 

"Of  course  you  can  if  you  want  to — but  I  know  the 
name  of  the  man  in  the  gray  coat,  it's  Col. — " 

At  this  moment  Darius  and  Hawley  having  reached 
the  end  of  the  paved  walk,  turned  to  go  home. 

"Halt  there!"  With  an  instant  glance  towards  the 
speaker,  without  taking  in  his  meaning — they  walked 
on,  coming  to  the  group. 

"Why  don't  you  stop !"  thundered  the  big  man. 

Still  they  did  not;  but  looking  all  about  to  see  who 
could  be  meant  they  went  on — even  a  little  faster. 

"Stop!  I  tell  you  to  stop!"  now  came  in  a  roar — 
hoarse  with  rage  and  reaching  out  as  if  to  take  hold 
of  Darius. 

"Don't  you  touch  me !"  said  Darius,  wheeling  around. 
"What  do  you  want?" 


452  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Don't  touch  you !  I  want  you  to  stop — and  by  God, 
I'll  make  you  stop,  you  damned  rebel!"  He  made  a 
lunge  at  Darius  with  both  fists  clinched,  but  was  seized 
quickly  by  two  Irish  regulars  who  had  just  come  up. 
"Hold  up,  Captain  Nicholson,  we'll  help  you — what's 
it  for?"  still  holding  him.  Others  came  running,  at 
tracted  by  the  big  man's  roar;  and  soon  there  were 
cries  of — "A  fight!  They  are  going  to  fight!"  Cap 
tain  Hawley  interposed. 

"There's  no  use  of  a  row,  gentlemen.  We  will  not 
leave.  Let  us  know  what  is  wanted  of  us."  It  was 
of  no  avail. 

"Take  your  hands  away  and  let  me  get  my  coat  off," 
said  Nicholson,  struggling  with  his  captors;  throwing 
off  one  of  them  and  dragging  the  other,  he  was  ad 
vancing. 

"A— h!"  drawled  Darius:— "So  bad  as  that,  is  it?" 
Taking  off  his  coat,  he  threw  it  towards  a  bench  a 
little  distance  away.  A  blue  jacket  caught  and  held  it. 
The  crowd  came  rushing  up  and  separated  them.  All 
sorts: — sailors,  soldiers,  some  of  them  the  worse  for 
drink — fishermen,  river  boatmen,  longshoremen,  for 
eigners,  negroes  and  all  the  rabble  to  be  found  at  the 
southern  seaport  towns  of  that  time — coming  up  seem 
ingly  as  if  by  magic  out  of  the  ground.  Darius,  pressed 
backward,  waited.  Strong,  straight,  muscular — in  the 
prime  of  his  glorious  manhood,  and  with  the  air  and 
slenderness  of  youth  still  about  him — he  stood  coolly 
observant  and  confident.  His  manner  impressed  the 
crowd,  which  was  now  clamoring  for  a  ring. 

"Make  room — give  way  then!!"  said  the  Irishmen. 
"If  ye  must  force  a  fight,  let  it  be  a  fair  one!"  they 
exclaimed,  still  restraining  their  man. 

"Let  us  get  on  better  ground,  this  is  shelving,"  said 
Darius,  bowing  to  his  opponent.  Neither  the  bow  nor 
the  remark  was  noticed.  As  soon  as  released,  Nichol 
son,  pale  with  rage,  advanced  furiously.  Darius,  know 
ing  he  could  not  withstand  the  force  of  the  coming  blow, 
evaded  it  by  quickly  springing  lightly  to  one  side,  pass- 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE  ROUTE  453 

ing  at  once  to  level  ground.  Carried  by  his  own  weight, 
the  momentum  of  which  was  increased  by  the  slight 
incline,  Nicholson  ran  several  paces  beyond  his  aim, 
and  fell.  There  were  shouts  of  laughter  as  he  made 
vain  efforts  to  rise.  Assisted  to  his  feet,  and  taking 
off  his  coat,  he  repeated  his  former  tactics,  and  was 
met  by  a  well  directed  blow  which  brought  him  to  his 
knees;  from  which  he  was  again  unable  to  rise. 

"Good  God !  Darius,  the  man  is  drunk,"  said  Captain 
Hawley,  who  from  the  first  had  kept  beside  his  kins 
man. 

"Take  care  of  your  man!"  said  Darius  in  a  harsh, 
imperative  tone  to  the  Irishmen,  when  they  had  again 
raised  Nicholson  from  the  ground.  "Take  him  away, 
he  is  no  match  for  me." 

He  was  answered  with  jeers  from  the  mob— for  mob 
ft  was.  Cries  of — "Hear  him!  Hear  the  coward" — 
"Beat  him  down,  Captain  Nicholson!" — "Kill  the 
damned  rebel!"  The  negroes  chiming  in,  there  were 
other  offensive  epithets.  There  was  a  pistol  shot  or 
two  and  the  riot  was  on ! 

The  two  Irishmen,  the  young  soldiers  from  the  north 
west,  and  a  few  citizens,  came  to  the  rescue,  beating  off 
the  mob,  when  the  timely  arrival  of  Captain  Renfro 
put  an  end  to  the  melee. 

"What  the  devil  is  the  matter?"  asked  Captain  Ren 
fro,  of  no  one  in  particular.  "Why,  Colonel  Darius,  can 
it  be  you?  What  does  all  this  mean?"  Darius  after 
saluting,  answered  coldly : — 

"I  do  not  know.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  was 
unprovoked." 

"You  may  be  sure  of  that,  sor,  it  was  none  of  his 
fault,"  said  Patrick  Gavan.  "M'Ginnis  will  tell  ye  the 
same.  And  Captain  Nicholson,  sure  he  was  afther 
drinking  a  little,  and  didn't  half  know  what  he  was 
doin'.  It  was  the  coat  that  riled  him — the  Confedrit 
coat  and  buttons." 


454  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

"My  coat?"  said  Darius.  "Where  is  my  coat?"  The 
young  corporal  gave  it  to  him.  "I  took  it  with  me  when 
I  went  after  Captain  Renfro,"  he  laughed. 

"You  did  that  for  me!"  said  Darius,  giving  the  boy 
a  look  he  never  forgot.  Turning  again  to  the  crowd,  he 
said:  "This,  gentlemen,  is  not  a  Confederate  coat  at 
all.  If  you  had  not  been  deceived  by  the  growing  dark 
ness  and  the  faded  cloth,  you  would  have  known  that 
this  is  a  foreign  uniform — that  it  was  once  blue — and 
that  it  has  not  a  confederate  button  on  it."  Captain 
Renfro,  who  had  been  talking  to  Nicholson,  who  was 
still  sitting  on  the  ground,  now  came  back  again  and 
looking  quizzically  at  Captain  Hawley,  said  to 
Darius : — 

"I  saw  you  and  your  friend  rowing  yesterday,  Col 
onel  Darius,  how  about  a  plat  of  the  fortifications? 
Which  of  you  two  gentlemen  is  the  better  draftsman?" 

"Fortifications — drawing?  It's  your  time,  Hawley, 
show  your  papers." 

"What's  it  all  about?"  asked  Hawley,  a  little  puz 
zled.  A  glance  at  his  companions  enlightened  him. 
He  took  from  an  inner  pocket  a  tiny  sketch-book  of 
perhaps  a  dozen  leaves,  on  which  there  were  as  many 
minute,  and  exquisitely  executed  sketches.  "This — " 
referring  to  one  on  the  last  page — "was  made  yester 
day.  It  is  not  quite  finished ;  it  is  the  new  boat  house." 

Returning,  Renfro  showed  it  to  Nicholson,  who 
having  glanced  at  it,  returned  it  without  a  word. 

"A  good  soldier  and  a  pretty  fair  man,  but  is  some 
times  given  to  carousing."  At  last  they  were  free  to 
go.  It  was  over.  A  few  knocked  down — a  black  eye — 
a  bruise  or  two — a  little  row  in  fact;  which  might 
have  been  serious,  but  was  not.  But  which  rose  in 
reputation  by  being  heralded  to  the  world  as  "Another 
Southern  Outrage."  And  so  in  truth  it  was. 


The  incident  brought  up  a  further  discussion  of  the 
war,  supposed  to  be  about  over.     They  were  walking 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  455 

slowly  down  the  deserted  street,  which  was  lighted 
only  by  the  glare  of  lamps  within  the  houses. 

"There  are  many  points  upon  which  I  am  still  ignor 
ant,"  Hawley  was  saying.  "Although  I  kept  up  with 
it  as  long  as  I  remained  in  the  country.  I  was  in 
England  from  a  few  weeks  after  the  beginning — once 
returning  and  going  back;  and  very  much  engrossed 
afterwards  by  personal  affairs.  I  may  not  be  right 
— but  doesn't  it  look  like  you  are  not  done  with  it? 
That  little  scene  just  now;  it  brings  to  mind  similar 
ones  I  witnessed  in  Washington.  Don't  you  think  they 
intend  to  come  down  rather  hard  on  the  whole  South 
ern  country?  Don't  you  think  they  mean  to  grind?" 

"They  have  begun.  In  truth  they  have  never  left 
off.  We  have  not  hoped  for  anything  different,  know 
ing  the  nature  of  the  enemy,  and  what  brought  about 
the  trouble ;  the  prime  cause  of  which  was  not  a  desire 
for  the  extinction  of  slavery  on  their  part,  any  more 
than  it  was  on  ours  to  fight  for  its  perpetuation.  The 
prime  cause  being  a  hatred  which  had  its  beginning 
before  our  republic  was  born.  All  that  could  be  gained 
by  force  of  arms  is  theirs ;  but  I  think  we,  the  defeated, 
agree  that  the  worst  is  to  come.  There  is  nothing  to 
do  but  wait  and  watch." 

"You  do  not  mean  that  you  will  not  submit?" 

"As  far  as  conscience  will  permit,  we  have  to  sub 
mit.  So  far  I  intend  to  do  so,  and  to  advise  all  others 
to  obey  the  new  laws  which  will  be  made  for  us.  But 
the  way  is  so  dark,  we  cannot  see  what  a  day — what 
an  hour  may  bring  forth." 

"As  I  said  before,  I  am  not  posted;  and  I  may  as 
well  say  also,  that  I  am  more  soldier  than  statesman, 
yet  I  would  like  to  know  if  there  is  not  something 
you  could  fall  back  on  for  the  sake  of  unity.  Is  there 
nothing  you  can  rest  on  or  cling  to?  day  the  consti 
tution — or  the  old  flag.  Now  for  instance  if  I  be 
longed  after  a  revolution,  to  the  defeated  faction,  I 
would  still  have  the  crown.  I  have  read  enough  of 
your  history  to  know  that  from  Maryland  to  Texas, 


456  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

your  men  have  carried  the  flag  on  every  battlefield 
with  honor.  Could  you  not  with  such  memories  in 
view  again  look  upon  it  as  a  bond  of  union?" 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  and  it  is  what  we  are  in 
honor  bound  to  do,  though  at  first  it  will  be  hard — 
no  enforced  duty  being  easy.  But  to  an  Englishman 
the  crown  is  more  than  a  symbol  of  royalty ;  it  means 
the  head  of  a  government  centuries  old.  A  govern 
ment  under  the  guidance  of  accomplished  statesmen 
chosen  from  the  body  of  a  cultivated  old-world  people, 
so  different  from  the  half-bred,  braggart  upstarts, 
now  our  masters,  as  to  make  comparison  impossible 
and  to  no  purpose.  Tyrants,  who  neither  can,  nor 
wish  to  keep  down  their  vicious  passions — their  envy, 
their  jealousy  and  their  hatred: — passions  which 
unrecognized  by  themselves,  have  been  nourished  and 
kept  alive  since  the  first  settlement  of  our  country 
by  white  men;  and  which,  God  help  my  people,  have 
wrought  such  ruin  as  cannot  be  forgotten  or  forgiven 
in  a  thousand  years,  save  only  in  the  way  a  true  fol 
lower  of  Christ  may  forgive." 

"That  this  pleasant  frame  of  mind  is  not  vouch 
safed  to  all,  is  marked  in  the  histories  of  all  countries, 
ruined  by  wars,  since  the  world  was  made.  This  war 
with  all  its  horrors  will  be  so  remembered  here.  The 
truth  in  its  nakedness  will  be  handed  down  to 
future  generations — must  be  handed  down,  if  only  as 
a  warning  against  an  enemy  more  alive  than  ever, 
more  alert,  and  more  to  the  fore.  This  history  must 
be  the  work  of  our  own  countrymen ;  and  when  in  pro 
per  shape,  there  will  not  in  the  annals  of  the  world's 
past  be  any  darker  pages,  than  those  telling  of  the 
destruction  in  the  Shenandoah  valley,  and  in  the  wake 
of  'The  March  Through  Georgia.'  In  the  invasion 
of  Missouri,  Arkansas,  Tennessee,  Louisiana  and  Mis 
sissippi,  with  the  exception  of  'The  Horror'  at  New 
Orleans,  there  was  a  certain  fairness  all  through,  and 
nothing  done  which  might  not  be  expected  of  any  in 
vading  army,  but  in  parts  of  Virginia  and  the  other 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  457 

Southern  Atlantic  States,  all  rules  of  civilized  war 
fare  were  ignored  from  the  beginning;  brutality  and 
savage  fierceness  taking  its  place,  never  was  there 
such  widespread  ruin  left  in  the  wake  of  a  victorious 
army.  It  will  be  good  for  the  surviving  settlers  of 
these  desolated  sections  to  begin  at  once  to  write  their 
individual  experiences ;  for  the  most  actively  concerned, 
becoming  ashamed  before  the  criticisms  of  foreign 
nations,  are  already  beginning  to  falsify,  and  call  it 
a  necessary  war  measure ;  at  the  present  time  the  peo 
ple  are  afraid  to  rise  up  and  contradict,  but  that  is  not 
saying  that  it  will  always  be  so.  We  have  already  an 
abridged  history  of  the  devastation  of  the  Shenan- 
doah  valley,  in  a  phrase  which  stands  alone  in  the 
depths  of  its  significance,  both  in  describing  the  com 
pleteness  of  the  work  and  the  depraved  humanity  of 
the  man  who  could  utter  it  in  boasting  the  deed.  He 
says : — 

"I  have  swept  the  Shenandoah  valley  so  clean,  that  a 
crow  flying  from  one  end  to  the  other,  must  carry  his 
rations  with  him."  A  volume  could  not  tell  more  of 
sufferings  of  the  homeless  old  and  sick — of  starving 
women  and  helpless  young!" 

"Consumed  with  vanity,  they  desire  not  merely  the 
praise,  but  the  homage  of  the  universe;  and  no  bullet 
wounds  have  been  so  deep  as  those  caused  by  the  ex 
pressed  sympathy  for  us  by  foreign  nations ;  especially 
that  of  England.  It  has  helped  to  keep  ferocity 
in  check  and  has  been  our  saving  salt ;  but  no  amount 
of  circumspection  can  prevent  the  species  of  despotism 
in  store  for  us,  nor  can  human  wisdom  foretell  the 
end.  We  must  have  patience." 

As  Hawley  was  about  to  reply,  there  came  a  rush 
of  chill  air,  sweeping  the  street  behind  them,  blind 
ing  them  and  forcing  them  for  a  moment  to  stop, — 
close  their  eyes  tightly  and  hold  on  to  their  hats. 

A  high,  shrill,  half -whispering  voice,  with  something 
like  the  husky  whirring  sound  of  an  old-fashioned  fan- 
mill  in  it,  broke  upon  their  hearing.  The  tall,  thin  and 


458  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

bent  figure  of  a  man  had  come  out  of  the  shadows 
opposite  and  was  keeping  a  little  to  the  rear  of  them 
as  he  walked  along  the  curbing  of  the  pavement. 

"Despotism!  Do  not  yield  to  it.  But  patience? 
Yes !  To  bear  the  curse  which  weighs  upon  your  coun 
trymen.  Your  brothers !  A  curse  not  to  be  lifted  until 
a  century  has  passed!" 

"Do  not  again  desert  thy  native  land !  Take  off  thy 
foreign  livery,  and  stand  firm  upon  the  ground  upon 
which  God  has  placed  you!  Your  forlorn  brethren 
need  you.  To  you — and  such  as  you — will  their  de 
spairing  eyes  be  turned.  Work.  If  not  by  day — by 
night!  The  remedy  is  near.  Look  for  it!  But  pa 
tience?  Oh,  son  of  Darius,  pray  for  more  patience!" 

Swaying  to  the  front  of  them,  he  turned  suddenly 
down  a  cross-alley.  Though  dazed  with  astonishment 
and  something  like  superstitious  awe,  Darius,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  and  without  saying  a  word  to 
Captain  Hawley,  ran  swiftly  down  the  alley,  but  only 
in  time  to  see  the  tall  figure  in  its  wind-blown  gar 
ments  vanishing  in  the  narrow  way;  still  pursuing, 
he  found  that  the  man  had  disappeared  in  the  gloom 
of  some  disreputable  and  broken  down  houses  in  an 
uninhabited  quarter  of  the  town. 

When  Darius  came  back,  breathless  and  panting 
from  the  race,  he  met  Hawley  half-way  down  the  alley. 

"Did  you  catch  up  with  him?" 

"No,  he  did  not  mean  that  I  should ;  I  called  to  him, 
but  that  only  made  him  go  faster.  The  man  I  took  him 
for,  is  dead;  I  did  not  think  of  this  at  the  moment. 
In  fact,  Hawley,  for  once  in  my  life,  for  a  minute  or 
two,  I  believed  in  ghosts.  I  know  though  that  he  was 
disguised,  and  that  he  is  not  an  old  man." 

"He  is  not.    No  old  man  could  run  so  fast." 

After  the  family,  who  had  heard  of  the  riot  and  were 
anxiously  waiting  at  the  table,  had  assembled  in  the  din 
ing  room,  Darius  proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  it — 
speaking  in  a  light  vein  and  as  if  the  occurrence  were 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  459 

of  small  moment  from  beginning  to  end — from  the 
single-handed  contest  at  start  to  the  weird  prophecy 
and  chase  at  the  finish. 

"Don't  you  really  think  it  was  a  ghost,  Darius? 
You  saw  it,  Captain  Hawley.  Don't  you  think  it  was?" 
asked  Aurelia,  who  really  believed  in  all  stories  of  the 
spirit  land. 

"It  affected  me  like  one.  He  brought  a  freezing 
whirlwind  with  him  that  chilled  and  scared  me.  I'm 
shivering  yet." 

"It  was  a  mysterious  disappearance — like  a  ghost 
might  disappear,  and  as  the  old  houses  look  haunted, 
I  did  not  try  to  go  in,  believing  a  daylight  investiga 
tion  might  be  best  and  safest."  Looking  up  at  this 
point  he  caught  a  warning  glance  from  Basil  who  had 
entered  a  minute  or  two  before  and  had  taken  a  place  at 
the  table;  this  he  answered  by  one  of  inquiry,  which 
was  replied  to  in  the  same  silent  way  by  a  motion  of 
the  head  toward  a  couple  of  new  waiters  whom  he  did 
not  remember  to  have  seen  before.  Noticing  further 
— he  saw  that  Hypolite  was  standing  near — covertly 
watching  the  newcomers. 

Basil  noticing  and  comprehending  at  the  same  time, 
called  to  him : — 

"When  did  you  begin  to  serve  in  the  dining  room, 
Hypolite?" 

"This  evening,"  he  answered  curtly,  at  the  same 
time  following  one  of  the  men,  who,  tray  in  hand,  was 
about  to  make  one  of  his  necessary  visits  to  the  kitchen. 
Quickly  returning  and  gathering  up  a  couple  of  dishes 
from  a  side-table,  he  placed  them  before  his  master; 
then  standing  behind  him  and  pausing  long  enough 
to  say  in  warning — "Prenez-y  garde,  II  vaut  mieux, 
Mahse  Basil;  c'est  a  vous  a  parler  francois.  Les 
espoins — en  tout!"  he  went  back  to  his  original  point 
of  survelilance. 

"Thank  you,  Hypolite,  I  will  be  careful." 


460  ALONG  THB  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"So  this  is  part  of  it  and  more  of  it,"  said  Darius 
— turning  to  Paul.  "Where  are  the  others?  Have 
they  left?" 

"Only  to  go  to  the  plantation.  Yorke  is  having 
trouble;  it  is  to  help  him  out  for  a  little  while.  They 
will  soon  be  back." 

Later  when  the  family  and  the  two  strange  servants 
had  left  the  dining  room,  Darius  believing  a  warning 
might  be  prudent,  said  to  Hypolite : — 

"Do  you  not  think  it  would  be  well  to  turn  out  the 
new  recruits,  without  waiting  to  see  what  mischief 
they  may  do?" 

"No,  Mahse  Darius,  it  is  not  necessaire,  I  haf  al 
ready  control  them,"  he  answered,  showing  his  white 
teeth  as  he  laughed  softly. 


It  was  late.  All  the  family  had  retired  except  Darius 
and  Basil,  who  were  alone. 

"You  wanted  to  tell  me  something,  Basil?" 

"Yes,  I  wanted  to  say  I  know  the  man  who  ran 
from  you  this  evening.  A  little  after  I  got  in  from 
the  plantation  I  heard  what  had  happened  to  you,  and 
Daisy  and  I,  going  in  different  directions,  started  on 
the  run,  I  was  making  a  short  cut  and  bumped  up 
against  him.  He  told  me  you  had  gone  home,  and  he 
thought  the  military  authorities  were  after  him.  He 
was  disguised  of  course,  but  I  knew  him  and  he  knew 
me  at  once." 

"You  say  he  knew  us?  I  could  see  that  he  was  a 
young  man;  but  who  is  he?"  Seeing  that  Basil  hesi 
tated,  he  asked:  "Does  he  live  here?" 

"He  is  an  old  man,  and  he  does  not  live  here.  I  am 
under  no  oath  to  keep  his  name  a  secret,  but  I  feel  in 
honour  bound  not  to  breathe  it;  but  when  I  remind 
you  of  Myrza,  you  will  remember  that  we  met  him  in 
New  Orleans  many  times  and  twice  at  the  house  of 
Myrza." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  461 

"Myrza's  friend.  Or  rather  her  friend's  friend;  for 
I  know  her  most  intimate  is  in  Europe.  What  is  he 
doing  here,  Basil?" 

"He  is  here  for  the  same  purpose  that  carried  the 
other  to  Europe.  In  the  interest  of  a  secret  society — 
or  Holy  Tribunal,  as  it  will  be  called  when  made  up, 
for  it  claims  to  be  of  a  religious  nature.  H — n  was 
present  this  afternoon  and  was  deeply  touched  at  your 
treatment." 

"I  heard  something  of  this  secret  confederacy  in 
New  Orleans,"  said  Darius,  knitting  his  brows 
thoughtfully. 

"You  heard  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan.  This  is  dif 
ferent  and  much  more  formidable.  It  will  reach  over 
a  greater  scope  of  country,  and  will  never  die  out  or 
dissolve.  It  will  be  like  the  Vehme-gericht  or  Vehmic 
Tribunal.  This  man  is  distributing,  it  is  said,  a  code 
of  laws  modeled  after  that  of  this  ancient  order.  In 
the  end  it  may  be  possible  that  the  two  will  unite,"  said 
Basil  cooly,  without  seeming  to  be  aware  of  the  terri 
ble  import  of  what  he  was  revealing.  Darius  at  once 
leaped  to  a  knowledge  of  its  seriousness. 

"I  hope  to  Heaven,  Basil,  you  have  not  united  with 
any  order  of  such  dangerous  tendencies;  and  I  pray 
to  God  to  keep  from  us  the  necessity  for  such  extreme 
measures  as  would  be  enforced  by  its  laws.  Can  you 
tell  me  you  are  not  compromised?" 

"I  can  readily.  I  have  told  you  all  I  know :  that  be 
ing  given  by  those  who,  as  for  as  I  know,  are  as  ignor 
ant  as  myself,  and  who  would  be  as  careful  even  in  re 
vealing  the  little  they  know,  as  I  feel  in  honour  bound 
to  be." 

"Then  speak  below  your  breath  or  not  at  all:  for 
come  what  may,  we  at  least,  will  not  betray  them; 
knowing  not  to  what  extremity  we  may  be  driven." 

About  two  months  after  this  occurrence  the  Darius 
residence  was  made  habitable  and  the  family  once  more 
assembled  beneath  its  roof.  There  were  no  repinings, 
no  complaints,  but  all  it  seemed,  had  silently  agreed  to 


462  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

ignore  care — bid  it  begone — and  be  thankful  for  exist 
ing  blessings.  Hitherto  the  Hawleys  had  been  domn 
ciled  with  the  Bathursts.  The  remainder  of  their  visit 
would  find  them  at  The  Pines.  There  would  be  a  din 
ner  in  their  first  week,  as  much  like  those  of  older  date 
as  could  be  gotten  up — Aurelia  was  the  moving  spirit 
— Candace  was,  if  possible,  more  concerned  about  the 
success  of  this  entertainment  than  any  one  else.  Poly- 
dore,  upon  whom  devolved,  amongst  other  duties,  the 
care  of  the  silver,  all  of  which  had  been  saved  from 
pillage  by  clever  hiding — in  which  both  he  and  his  wife 
had  taken  part,  was  scarcely  less  interested.  It  is  need 
less  to  say  that  this  part  of  the  service  was  perfect. 
The  table  was  drawn  to  its  utmost  extent,  for  the  child 
ren,  by  special  favour,  were  to  eat  with  the  grown-ups 
— three  Bathursts  and  three  Hawleys — the  least  of 
them  in  tall  chairs  purchased  for  the  occasion.  All 
were  present.  Even  Uncle  Sam  had  been  forced  to 
join  them,  for  it  would  be  a  long  time  before  the  Haw 
leys  would  again  be  present  at  a  family  assemblage,  as, 
after  a  short  business  visit  to  New  Orleans,  they  were 
going  home.  They  were  all  seated  at  the  table  except 
the  twins, — who  had  made  some  difficulty  about  the 
seats  assigned  them: — both  claiming  a  right  to  sit  by 
Uncle  Darius.  They  stood  awhile  looking,  steadfastly, 
at  their  fortunate  cousins, — the  two  oldest  Bathursts, 
belonging  to  Basil — who  had  secured  the  coveted  places 
— unheeding  the  affectionate  commands  of  Paul  and 
Basil. 

"Come! — sit  by  grandfather." 

"Do  come  and  sit  by  me; — won't  you  sit  by  Uncle 
Basil?" 

They  decided  they  would  not  eat  at  all, — and  were 
indignantly  making  their  way  out  of  the  dining-room. 

"Come  back,  boys!  I  find  myself  embarrassed  by 
my  own  popularity  to-day,"  said  Darius,  overtaking 
them  and  taking  a  hand  of  each.  "Now  be  my  op- 
posites;  sit  across  the  way,  and  you  can  look  Uncle 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  463 

Darius  right  in  the  face — while  these  Bathurst  boys 
have  to  look  sideways.  Come  now — between  this  little 
girl  and  young  John  Hawley." 

They  watched  him  anxiously  as  he  returned  to  his 
place — looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"Now  we're  happy.  How  very  alike  they  are.  I 
will  never  know  them.  Your  children  are  all  Haw- 
leys,  Felix — except  John ;  and  even  he  does  not  resem 
ble  you.  Where  does  he  get  his  violet  eyes?  He  looks 
like — like  Berenger — the  younger  Berenger.  Your 
friend,  Paul.  That  little  tremor  of  the  upper  eye-lid 
when  he  laughs.  By  George!  I  had  not  noticed  it  be 
fore — it's  startling!"  Turning  to  Hawley,  he  said: 

"He  was  a  countryman  of  yours,  and  was  the  hand 
somest  man  I  ever  saw." 

"An  Englishman — ?  Berenger?  I — "  Looking  at 
Felicia,  he  checked  himself,  saying,  "The  boy  favours 
him,  you  say?  It  is  probably  the  national  stamp." 
There  was  a  disturbance  among  the  servants  at  a  side- 
table — the  noise  of  falling  china. 

"The  Berengers,"  said  Paul  when  quiet  was  restored, 
"were  both  unusually  good  looking.  The  father  was 
on  a  visit  at  the  time  you  saw  him,  the  younger  sold 
his  interests  in  Texas  and  returned  to  New  Orleans,  I 
believe.  I  have  never  seen  either  since  the  evening  we 
dined  with  them  at  Sanford's." 

The  conversation  went  on  briskly  and  the  evening 
made  one  such  as  children  do  not  forget  in  a  lifetime. 


"Felicia,  after  my  final  return  from  England  you 
wanted — you  thought  it  best  and  most  honourable  to 
tell  me  the  name — of  one  you  had  loved.  A  feeling, 
which  no  longer  exists,  caused  me  to  forbid  it.  Are 
you  still  willing  to  tell  me?" 

"I  felt  at  first  that  I  had  no  right  to  reveal  the  pri 
vate  faults  of  another;  besides  there  was  a  mutual 


464  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

promise  of  secrecy.    I  have  always  wanted  to  tell  you." 
"It  was  the  man  your  father  and  uncle  spoke  of  at 
dinner?" 

"Yes.  The  night  we  left  New  Orleans  for  New  York, 
he  passed  by  me  while  you  were  speaking  to  some 
friends  and  reproached  me  for  marrying.  That  is  the 
only  time  I  have  ever  seen  or  heard  of  him  since  we 
parted  in  Texas."  She  was  cruelly  excited. 

"Darling,  come  and  sit  by  me  and  let  us  talk  it  over, 
— not  that  chair — the  foot-stool — and  sit  as  you  always 
like  best."  She  drew  up  a  foot-stool  and  clasping  her 
arms  around,  and  laying  her  head  upon  his  knee — would 
not,  or  could  not  look  up. 

"No,  that  will  not  do,"  he  said,  unclasping  her  arms, 
you  will  sit  here  in  my  arms  with  your  dear  head  on 
my  shoulder.  Now,  my  darling,  you  may  tell  me." 

"Are  you  afraid  to  go  to  New  Orleans?  Are  you 
afraid  to  meet  this  man?  I  can  easily  go  alone  and 
come  back  here  again;  or  instead  of  the  route  pro 
posed  I  can  go  by  water." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  meet  him,  and  I  am  not  afraid,  but 
I  will  not  part  from  you  for  one  hour — while  you  are 
so  ill." 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  his  influence  then,  or  that  he 
may  in  some  way  annoy  you?  It  is  a  well-known  fact 
that  his  recklessness  in  regard  to  women,  has  once  or 
twice  brought  him  to  the  verge  of  ruin,  you  may  meet, 
and  you  are  not  one  whom  a  man  of  that  nature  would 
give  up  readily.  He  is  now  free — I  learned  that  from 
Godwin,  but  did  not  think  of  it  again.  It  was  the  talk 
of  the  English  colony  in  and  about  New  Orleans.  His 
father  is  dead;  and  Archie's  inheritance  enabled  him 
to  make  some  profitable  investments  lately,  and  it  is 
said  he  is  on  the  road  to  fortune.  His  wife  returned — 
when  she  heard  of  his  well-doing ;  but  found  him  living 
in  open  adultery  with  one  also  married,  and  losing  all 
hope  of  ever  being  reunited  to  him,  she  instituted  legal 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  465 

proceedings  and  readily  won  her  case.  He  may  not  be 
so  unscrupulous  as  he  has  been  represented,  but  if  you 
go  to  New  Orleans  he  might  try  to  have  an  interview." 

"There  need  be  no  interview?  I  will  take  the  child 
ren  and  go  with  you,  I  can  easily  avoid  him  except  for 
a  chance  meeting,  and  that  I  can  face." 

Pausing  reflectively,  she  began  hesitatingly: — 

"If  I  go  with  you,  the  work  will  be  done  in  half  the 
time,  for  I  am  familiar  with  it ;  it  will  be  tedious,  even 
if  undertaken  by  both  of  us.  You  are  not  strong 
enough — I  will  go.  You  now  know  all  my  family — I 
see  that  you  like  them.  In  all  their  poverty,  how  happy 
they  are.  Could  they  be  so  if — ?"  Captain  Hawley  in 
terrupted  her. 

"You  mean  if  you  had  not  left  Texas?  Knowing  the 
name  and  nature  of  the  one  who  caused  it,  I  see  the 
wisdom  of  your  flight.  As  for  the  part  I  played — I 
have  never  ceased  to  congratulate  myself  upon  my  good 
fortune  in  being  present  to  help  you  out.  I  deserve  no 
gratitude." 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  all  along  left  a  wrong  impres 
sion: — I  was  not  fleeing  from  Mr.  Berenger;  though 
it  is  true  his  presence  would  have  been  a  constant  dan 
ger  to  me,  believing  as  he  did,  that  it  was  a  crime  to 
force  a  marriage,  unless  both  parties  loved  each  other, 
and  that  in  such  cases  a  divorce  was  in  order.  Added 
to  this  was  his  opinion  that  it  was  greatly  less  of  a  sin 
for  those  who  really  loved  each  other  to  throw  aside 
all  barriers  and  live  together — in  defiance  of  either 
law  or  religion.  Of  course,  he  did  not  approve  either, 
but  argued  that  the  latter  was  less  heinous  than  the 
former.  He  had  spoken  so  recklessly  after  the  scene 
in  the  church  came  to  his  knowledge,  and  as  I,  through 
cowardice  and  shame,  sometimes  shared  the  feeling — 
I  was,  to  put  it  in  plain  words,  afraid  he  would  propose 
an  elopement,  and  that  I  would  agree.  I  have  never 
attempted  to  throw  all  the  blame  upon  him : — he  would 


466  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

never  have  tried  to  force  me.  And  I  hardly  believe  he 
would  have  followed  me.  My  conduct  throughout  was 
due  to  a  lack  of  moral  courage." 

"You  might  have  spared  yourself  the  pain  of  going 
over  it,  Felix."  (She  had  turned  quite  pale.)  "You 
were  equally  explicit  when  you  told  me  several  years 
ago.  But  Archie  is  one  of  a  type ;  and  I  can  only  repeat 
that  you  acted  wisely.  You  might  better  have  confided 
in  your  father;  but  it  is  best  to  fly  from  a  temptation 
which  we  fear  we  can  not  resist." 

"It  appeared  to  me  then,  to  be  the  only  way."  Her 
memory  reverting  to  the  scene  on  the  wharf,  she  could 
have  told  him  that  subsequent  events  had  proved  the 
righteousness  of  her  act;  but  she  could  imagine  no  ex 
tremity  which  could  justify  her  in  exposing  the  faults 
of  Archie  Berenger;  just  why,  she  would  not  ask  her 
self: — tout  it  had  been  many  a  long  year  since  she 
denied  herself  the  right  to  think  of  him  at  all.  How 
difficult  had  been  the  task,  was  shown  to-day: — the 
chance  allusion  of  her  uncle  having  brought  to  her 
mental  view  the  Texas  neighborhood  and  all  its  hap 
penings.  As  to  the  violent  scene  at  New  Orleans,  there 
was  no  one  in  the  world  to  whom  she  would  repeat  it. 
But  with  Godwin's  story  in  mind,  she  said : 

"I  assure  you  I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid." 

"Then  we  will  not  change  our  first  intention,  but 
take  the  children  and  go  by  water — and  trust  ourselves 
to  the  chances  of  getting  back  to  Washington  by  rail. 
The  road  has  been  only  partially  repaired.  We  are 
not  going  to  linger  among  unpleasant  topics  and  we 
will  forget  their  cause." 

The  New  Orleans  property  was  not  sold,  but  rented 
— leased  for  a  number  of  years.  The  Morgans  returned 
to  England.  The  party,  without  interruption  returned 
to  Washington.  The  journey  by  rail  across  the  country 
had  benefited  all.  "What  a  field  for  investment  is 
here!  How  many  millions  for  some  one  to  gather  in. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  467 

But  we  have  an  abundance,  Felicia,  and  had  we  need 
of  speculation,  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  undergo  the 
excitement  and  worry  of  it." 

"I  am  so  glad  there  is  no  need  for  it.  When  winter 
is  past  we  will  travel  like  gipsies — all  over  the  moun 
tainous  countries  of  the  Southwest — where  it  may  be 
safe  from  the  attack  of  savages.  I  will  hunt  with  you. 
I  will  practice  again  with  a  gun,  so  that  I  will  be  a 
companion  for  you.  We  will  live  in  the  open  air — 
in  the  open  mountain  air;  and  you  will  grow  better 
with  each  day  that  comes,  until  you  are  well — do  you 
hear?  Until  you  are  well!"  Felicia  had  never  been  so 
full  of  hope.  Her  husband  had  thought  it  best  not  to 
tell  her  that  he  had  met  her  former  lover,  and  that 
Berenger  had  crossed  the  street  to  avoid  meeting  him 
when  in  front  of  their  dwelling  on  the  same  evening  the 
Morgans  left  for  England. 

"He  thinks  Felicia  has  told  me,  or  he  would  speak 
to  me  as  he  has  always  done.  Poor  fellow!"  thought 
John  Hawley.  He  would  perhaps  walk  there  for  the 
purpose  of  merely  getting  a  glimpse  of  one  whom 
naturally,  he  must  have  loved  above  all  others ;  who  by 
any  reckoning  must  have  been  his  idol ;  and  what  man 
who  had  ever  been  loved  by  Felicia  Bathurst,  could  ever 
forget  her.  In  the  purity  of  his  own  heart,  he  could 
not  imgaine  that  any  really  unworthy  motive  was  un 
derlying  this  wish  to  look  upon  the  face  of  one  so  good 
and  beautiful.  This  was  his  conclusion.  Although  he 
had  never  urged  a  history  of  their  acquaintance  in  de 
tail  upon  his  wife — he  had  gathered  from  her  brief  re 
cital  of  some  of  the  main  incidents  occurring  within 
that  period,  that  it  had  lasted  over  several  years. 

When  on  their  journey  to  Washington,  Captain  Haw- 
ley  congratulated  himself  upon  his  course  in  New  Or 
leans  ;  he  had  long  know  the  strength  of  her  passionate 
devotion  to  himself ;  but  he  now  recognized  as  connected 
with  it  a  bouyancy  of  thought  and  restored  vitality, 
which  was  almost  hypnotic  in  its  influence.  She  seemed 
to  wish  to  impart  to  him  this  renewal  of  strength  and 


468  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

hope.  She  was  more  like  the  Felix  of  other  days.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  this  visit  was  the  finale  to  her  life 
of  the  past  six  years.  It  would  henceforth  be  as  a 
closed  book — she  had  met  face  to  face  all  she  had  so 
feared.  The  intervening  years  of  trial  now  seemed  to 
belong  to  some  other  woman,  who  might  now  be  im 
partially  judged  by  herself;  step  by  step  she  had  fol 
lowed  the  path  of  this  other  woman  until  the  end  and 
a  verdict  was  reached.  Her  husband  had  held  her 
blameless — her  darling  hubsand!  Even  while  con 
demning  his  judgment  as  too  lenient,  it  was  consoling. 
At  present  she  was  John  Hawley's  wife.  Her  heart 
beat  joyously  at  the  thought — this  was  best  of  all.  That 
these  were  her  children — and  this  her  home  were  secon 
dary  matters.  The  task  would  never  again  be  difficult. 
She  would  bury  every  thought  of  the  past  in  trying  to 
be  worthy  of  the  blessings  which  now  were  hers.  Their 
dwelling  was  in  the  western  part  of  the  city.  It  had 
been  left  unfinished  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  having 
been  the  property  of  a  successful  merchant.  It  was 
now  completed  upon  an  enlarged  and  improved  plan  by 
Hawley.  Facing  on  a  spacious  public  park,  the  grounds 
were  extensive,  and  their  improvement  afforded  for 
him  the  agreeable  relaxation  which  the  management  of 
his  large  estate  and  his  failing  health  made  necessary. 
His  genial  and  uniform  courtesy  of  manner  and  his 
generous  hospitality  would  alone  have  drawn  around 
him  a  throng  of  friends.  But  although  conscious  of 
an  assured  welcome  in  the  polite  circles  of  the  city,  he 
decided  it  best  for  his  family  to  confine  themselves  to 
the  entertainment  of  a  select  number  of  friends. 

Of  late  this  had  been  curtailed — being  limited  to  lit 
tle  dinners,  given  only  when  Captain  Hawley's  health 
permitted.  Late  hours  had  long  ago  been  tabooed.  He 
once  told  Dr.  Vernon,  that  everything  coming  in  the 
way  of  either  his  health  or  happiness,  was  put  down 
with  an  iron  hand,  before  having  time  to  interfere  with 
one  or  the  other.  Under  such  rule,  he  laughingly  said, 
he  might  live  a  century. 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  469 

He  showed  his  appreciation  of  this  care  by  a  passion 
ate  devotion.  How  greatly  he  valued  her  rare  beauty, 
he  could  show  by  the  costly  gifts  he  lavished  upon  her ; 
but  the  solicitude  for  his  health — so  honest,  so  unob 
trusive,  was  a  part  of  herself  and  was  given  with  a 
tenderness,  which  he  repaid  with  a  love  that  approached 
adoration. 

Captain  Hawley  rarely  expressed  his  love  in  fond 
words  or  caresses,  but  by  some  means,  the  kind  and 
quality  of  this  affection  was  understood  by  all  their 
friends. 


"I  call  you  'Felicia' — sometimes.  Do  you  like  it?  I 
have  fancied  from  something  in  your  manner,  that  you 
have  a  dignified  preference  for  it." 

"My  mother  called  me  that — never  Felix.  That  name 
— to  her,  was  sacred  to  my  twin  brother;  the  others 
using  whatever  came  uppermost: — my  father  saying, 
I  had  inherited  his  name  with  all  his  other  little  belong 
ings." 

She  instantly  thought  of  one  person  who,  after  tell 
ing  her  that  he  loved  her,  had  dropped  all  other  names 
and  called  her  "Felix."  She  had  never  before  taken 
notice  of  it.  Which  did  she  prefer?  Her  answer  was : 

"I  like  all  the  names  you  call  me,  and  the  way  you 
pronounce  them,  and  I — I  am  sometimes  pleased  with 
you,  John  Hawley."  He  laughed  joyously. 

"Felix  or  Felicia — it  means  to  me  all  that's  best  in 
life — it  means  life !  For  darling,  you  may  not  know  it, 
but  you  have  kept  me  alive  for  years— comfortably 
alive — for  I  enjoy  living." 

The  month  of  March  came  in  with  blustering  winds, 
followed  by  rains  of  such  frequency  that  the  earth  be 
came  soaked  in  such  a  way  that  the  few  days  of  sun 
shine  had  little  effect,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with 
dampness.  Captain  Hawley  had  been  forced  to  stay  in 
doors.  To-night  he  was  asleep  and  breathing  heavily 
when  Felicia  went  to  tuck  him  in,  as  was  usual  before 


470  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

going  to  look  after  the  children.  Now  forgetting  the 
children  altogether,  she  at  once  summoned  their  family 
physician.  "We  must  work  fast,  Mrs.  Hawley.  It  is 
pneumonia,  and  it  will  go  hard  with  him."  It  took  but 
a  few  hours  to  turn  vague  doubts  and  fears  into  a  dread 
certainty.  Captain  Hawley  lived  three  days.  On  the 
morning  of  the  third  day,  before  it  was  quite  day 
light,  he  awoke  from  one  of  the  laspses  into  heavy  sleep 
which  were  his  only  refuge  from  pain,  and  looked  at 
Felicia  who  was  sitting  by  his  bedside. 

"Have  you  been  up  all  night,  darling?" 

"I  have  rested  here  on  the  bed  near  you." 

"Send  everyone  out  of  the  room,"  he  said,  closing  his 
eyes. 

"We  are  alone,"  said  poor  Felicia,  clasping  his  hand 
in  both  her  own.  "My  beloved !" 

"Don't  begin  to  cry," — again  opening  his  eyes.  "I 
must  tell  you — move  a  little  away,  so  that  I  can  seen 
your  sweet  face." 

The  beautiful  dark  eyes,  heavy  with  the  slumber  of 
approaching  death,  were  bent  lovingly  upon  her. 

"There,  that  is  right — you  will  not  cry?"  Again  he 
fell  into  unconsciousness,  breathing  heavily,  and  seem 
ing  to  have  fotgotten.  Arousing  suddenly,  he  said 
anxiously : 

"It  was  something — Felix — ?" 

"You  wanted  to  tell  me  about — ?" 

"Yes.  About  Caroline — our  boys — she  is  their  sis 
ter."  Again  closing  his  eyes,  he  continued  to  speak,  but 
with  more  difficulty :  "I  have  no  fears.  I  will  soon  be 
at  rest — my  dear  wife — Felix!" 

John  Hawley  spoke  no  more  forever: — he  lingered 
throughout  the  day — seemingly  without  pain  until  the 
end. 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  471 


CHAPTER   X. 

"Keep  busy,  Mrs.  Hawley.  I  do  not  like  to  see  you 
so  quiet; — I  would  rather  you  would  weep.  Would  it 
not  be  better  to  send  for  some  member  of  your  family?" 

"Kaspar  is  coming.  I  telegraphed  to  father,  as  soon 
as  1  knew  it  was  to  be  the  end.  Daisy  was  the  only  one 
who  could  come.  It  will  be  better  when  he  is  here," 
she  replied  with  dry  lips. 

Kaspar  had  come.  But  Felicia  had  not  decided  upon 
her  future  course,  but  would  write  to  England  at  once, 
for  she  had  no  difficulty  in  determining  the  meaning 
of  his  last  broken  words;  for  the  day  preceding  the 
first  one  of  his  illness,  Captain  Hawley  had  requested 
her  to  write  several  business  letters — one  of  them  con 
cerning  his  daughter  who  was  now  at  a  private  school 
in  France.  There  were  some  legal  formalities  to  be 
reckoned  with,  in  regard  to  this  child's  inheritance, 
which  being  conversant  with  the  details  of  her  hus 
band's  business,  she  alone  understood.  The  little  girl, 
now  twelve  years  old,  had  been  placed  in  the  family  of 
a  brother  officer,  a  distant  relation  and  hitherto  had 
enjoyed  the  income  only,  of  the  property  in  Liverpool, 
— now  becoming  hers,  by  right  explained  in  his  will. 
The  property  in  New  York  City,  in  Washington  and  in 
New  Orleans,  together  with  a  large  fortune  in  Govern 
ment  bonds,  he  left  to  his  wife.  Words  and  phrases 
showing  how  vivid  had  been  Captain  Hawley's  pre 
monition  of  an  early  death  were  constantly  recurring 
to  memory.  "You  will  never  be  troubled  b}^  a  lack  of 
money,  Felix.  I  will  look  to  that."  After  a  couple  of 
weeks  all  expressed  directions  and  wishes  had  been  car 
ried  out.  Felix  had  moved  and  acted  in  a  fever  of  ex 
citement.  Now  there  was  nothing  more  to  do ;  no  com 
mand  or  desire  uttered  by  her  adored  husband,  but  had 
been  executed  or  compiled  with.  She  had  become  pale 


472  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

and  emaciated  as  when  at  the  convent  years  ago,  she 
had  learned  that  she  would  never  again  in  life,  meet 
her  little  brothers.  This  seemed  worse.  She  began  to 
collect  the  treasures  he  had  lavished  upon  her.  Her 
keepsakes.  Letters,  jewels,  and  the  pretty  gowns  he 
so  delighted  in  seeing  her  wear.  Something  he  had  said 
concerning  them  all  coming  to  mind  as  she  laid  them 
away.  She  now  realized  the  finality  of  their  parting. 

Late  in  the  evening,  about  one  month  after  the  death 
of  Captain  Hawley,  Felix  and  Kaspar  were  alone ;  Kas- 
par  sitting  close  under  the  lamp  reading,  and  his  sister 
sitting  by  the  fire  with  folded  hands — thinking.  There 
was  nothing  else  to  do,  but  face  the  future.  Although 
there  was  a  large  estate  it  was  so  invested  that  only 
a  little  time  and  labour  was  required  in  its  manage 
ment.  Her  part  in  it  could  well  be  reckoned  as  so  many 
hours  out  of  each  month.  To  stay  in  Washington  she 
felt  to  be  impossible.  The  thought  intolerable.  "Daisy," 
she  said  suddenly,  "we  will  go  home.  In  the  morning 
we  will  find  a  care-taker — someone  who  will  live  in  the 
little  cottage  in  the  backyard,  and  take  care  of  the 
place  until  it  can  be  sold.  I  find  I  will  be  compelled  to 
go  to  England.  We  will  stay  in  Charleston  until  we 
are  ready.  You  will  go  with  me,  will  you  not?"  The 
boy  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say  that !  It  will  be 
like  Texas  again,  when  we  used  to  run  wild  on  the 
prairies.  Freedom  and  fresh  air!" 

They  would  go  to  Paris  first.  Kaspar  would  con 
sult  an  eminent  French  surgeon  about  the  mystery  of 
his  continued  lameness;  the  accompanying  pain  of 
which  was  at  times  so  hard  to  bear.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  possible  cause  for  it.  Captain  Hawley  had  con 
sulted  every  known  authority  in  Washington,  but  the 
decision  of  all  had  been  the  same.  "He  would  get  well 
in  time."  But  he  did  not  get  well. 

It  proved  to  be  a  stupendous  undertaking — the  pleas 
ure  of  it  confined  mostly  to  the  four  lively  boys  who 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  473 

managed  to  command  the  services  of  the  other  and 
older  half  of  the  party.  Perhaps  Dr.  Vernon  had  an 
eye  to  this  when  he  said : — 

"Don't  burden  yourself  with  too  many  nurses,  Mrs. 
Hawley,  one  good  trusty  middle  aged,  competent  woman 
will  answer  every  purpose."  The  trusty  woman  was 
secured,  but  had  it  not  been  for  Daisy's  influence  over 
the  turbulent  brood,  Felicia  would  have  had  little  rest ; 
to  say  nothing  of  leisure. 

To  Daisy  their  wickedness  and  their  goodness  were 
equally  a  source  of  perpeutal  delight.  Dr.  Vernon's 
advice  proved  to  be  the  best.  There  had  been  no  time 
for  brooding,  and  at  the  end  of  the  voyage  Felicia  had 
regained  her  usual  strength. 

The  surgical  examination  proved  extremely  interest 
ing.  Felicia  was  present  when  it  took  place.  It  was  an 
affair  of  a  few  minutes  only.  The  knee  was  examined 
above,  below,  through,  and  around. 

"I  see  you  have  been  much  wounded — that,"  scruti 
nizing  a  deep  and  still  discoloured  scar  on  the  thigh, 
"was  a  bad  place.  But  here  is  the  trouble,"  pressing 
lightly  on  a  point  below  the  knee,  Daisy  winced.  Go 
ing  to  a  side-table  he  took  up  a  couple  of  sharp  instru 
ments,  and  returned. 

"Can  you  bear  pain?"  A  smile  from  the  boy  was 
his  only  answer. 

"Stand  by  the  window  so  that  the  light  will  fall  on 
this  part." 

Felicia  withdrew  to  the  far  end  of  the  room.  In  a 
few  minutes,  an  almost  incredibly  short  time,  the  sur 
geon  called  to  her. 

"It  is  a  bullet  from  the  revolver.  Your  brother  tells 
me  it  is  like  the  one  before  extracted.  He  was — "  Daisy 
was  about  to  speak.  The  surgeon  checked  him.  "He 
was  of  the  cavalry — a  soldier — was  he  not?  And  his 
opponent  was  of  the  infantry,  and  it  was  a  close  to 
gether  fight?" 

"That  is  just  how  it  was,"  said  Daisy,  laughing  loud 
ly. 


474  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"You  may  well  laugh,  my  son,  for  you  carry  no  more 
the  bequille." 

Felicia  had  a  double  reason  for  first  visiting  France. 
Somewhat  against  her  father's  will  and  through  her 
mother's  influence,  Captain  Hawley's  daughter  had 
been  placed  in  a  pensionnat — not  in  Paris,  but  in  a 
neighboring  city.  Felicia  longed  to  see  this  child,  and 
her  husband  had  often  expressed  a  wish  that  she  might 
know  her  little  brothers.  Daisy's  lameness  was  al 
ready  a  thing  of  the  past.  Learning  the  day  upon 
which  the  pupils  were  permitted  to  see  their  friends, 
they  went  en  masse.  The  pretty  slight  figure  of  a 
girl  of  thirteen  but  looking  younger,  came  eagerly  to 
meet  them.  After  Felicia  had  welcomed  her,  she  said : 

"I  have  brought  your  little  brothers  to  see  you, 
Caroline."  Naming  each  of  them  in  turn  and  adding — 
"Boys,  this  is  your  sister." 

The  little  girl  wonderingly  offered  her  hand — the 
boys  as  wonderingly  held  out  theirs.  None  of  them 
seemed  to  realize  their  relation  to  the  sister  they  had 
been  told  they  would  find  in  the  pension.  Through  the 
good  offices  of  their  uncle  they  were  made  to  under 
stand  it. 

In  Captain  Hawley's  will  there  was  a  clause,  in 
which  by  the  testator's  expressed  command,  the  guard 
ianship  of  this  child  should  be  transferred  to  Felicia, 
in  case  of  her  own  mother's  death  before  the  term  of 
minority  expired. 

Felicia  now  wished  there  had  never  been  occasion  for 
such  a  clause.  So  pleased  was  she  that,  she  would  then 
and  there  have  claimed  her.  The  beautiful  dark  eyes, 
the  girl's  best  feature,  were  Captain  Hawley's  own. 
They  also  belonged  to  the  twins.  How  often  had  she 
seen  them  sadden,  as  at  a  chance  mention  of  his  little 
girl,  he  would  gaze  dreamily  in  the  distance — think 
ing  of  her  she  knew,  as  her  own  dear  father  might 
think  of  herself  under  like  unfortunate  conditions. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  with  us,  Caroline?"  she  asked 
in  parting.  When  the  child  bursting  into  a  passion  of 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  475 

tears,  exclaimed.  "Oh,  how  I  would!"  Captain  Haw- 
ley,  for  a  moment  stood  in  plain  view  before  her,  and 
she  was  speaking  as  much  to  him  as  to  his  daughter 
when  she  said: — 

"My  darling!  I  will  see  what  can  be  done.  But  if 
I  fail,  you  must  not  mind,  for  you  can  come  to  us  as 
soon  as  you  belong  to  yourself." 

Having  no  concern  for  a  man  or  woman  who  could 
desert  his  or  her  offspring  under  any  circumstances, 
known  to  humanity,  she  determined  to  get  possession 
of  this  child,  deprived  of  a  fond  father's  care  and  love, 
by  one  whose  act  in  crossing  the  ocean  to  kidnap  her, 
was  not  caused  by  maternal  anxiety  as  she  would  have 
had  others  believe,  but  by  the  promptings  of  a  merce 
nary  nature  and  a  base  desire  for  revenge  upon  the 
one  she  had  most  injured.  The  girl  should  at  least 
have  every  possible  opportunity  of  living  in  the  com 
panionship  of  her  brothers.  She  should  know  at  least 
something  of  family  life — something  to  which  she  had 
hitherto  been  a  stranger.  After  this,  letters  from  each 
and  all  of  them — presents  of  every  kind  that  a  school 
girl  cares  for,  came  to  the  pensionnat  for  Caroline 
Hawley.  Nor  was  the  habit  discontinued  after  the 
family  had  returned  to  America.  Three  months  later 
the  Hawley  brothers  had  learned  to  know  and  love  their 
sister.  Her  mother  was  dead. 


476  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 


CHAPTER  XL 

Except  at  New  Orleans,  Felicia's  business  affairs 
were  in  admirable  shape.  She  had  leased  her  residence 
in  Washington  for  a  term  of  years.  With  the  help  of 
her  uncle  a  few  knotty  points  relative  to  other  property 
had  been  smoothed  out.  She  had  received  a  letter  from 
New  Orleans  a  short  time  since  urging  her  presence; 
some  dwellings — cottages  in  a  respectable  neighbor 
hood  were  in  a  ruinous  condition,  and  if  not  repaired  in 
a  short  time  the  present  rate  of  rent  would  decrease, 
and  besides  no  decent  person  would  care  to  live  in  one 
of  them.  She  did  not  want  to  go.  She  knew  her  agent 
was  not  to  be  trusted  and  that  she  would  lose  money  if 
the  work  of  repair  was  entrusted  to  him.  And  yet  she 
hesitated,  preferring  to  lose  a  little  by  not  going. 

She  finally  decided  to  get  an  old  friend  and  neighbor 
of  Captain  Hawley's  to  look  into  it  and  get  for  her 
another  agent.  She  wrote  to  him — getting  for  answer 
a  letter  not  only  to  come,  but  to  be  prepared  to  buy  a 
half  dozen  or  more  cottages  on  the  same  street  as  an 
investment.  They  would  be  sold  and  would  go  at  a 
song.  She  could  never  afterwards  trace  any  connec 
tion  between  this  letter  and  the  thoughts  which  came 
to  her  after  reading  it. 

She  began  to  wonder  if  Berenger  ever  came  there, 
or  if  it  were  probable  he  lived  there.  The  mere  possi 
bility  of  this,  made  her  decide  to  go.  And  if  he  does 
not?  The  question  awakened  her  to  the  fact  that  she 
was  free  to  inquire.  Her  children  had  been  taken  from 
her;  at  "The  Pines,"  or  at  Charleston — her  relatives 
had  left  nothing  for  her  to  do  in  that  line. 

"I  hardly  know  who  is  their  head,"  she  would  say, 
"It  might  be  said  Bathurst,  Darius  &  Co. — with  their 
darling  sister,  Caroline." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  477 

At  first  there  was  a  sense  of  criminality  attending 
this  wish  to  see  her  former  lover.  At  no  time  in  the 
past  year  had  there  been  a  vestige  of  the  consciousness 
she  now  experienced.  It  was  like  she  had  all  her  life 
known  him  and  that  he  had  always  been  as  forbidden 
fruit.  Her  Aunt  Aurelia  had  preceded  her  by  a  week 
or  two.  She  was  at  the  house  of  an  old  friend ;  her  visit 
over — they  would  probably  return  at  the  same  time.  It 
was  not  until  she  was  again  in  New  Orleans  that  she 
realized,  that  for  the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance 
she  could  think  of  Berenger  as  a  lover  without  sin. 
There  was  a  novel  sensation  in  this ;  a  sense  of  freedom ; 
but  it  was  still  difficult  to  rid  herself  of  an  impression 
of  guilt — of  wrong  to  her  husband.  Going  from  one 
stage  to  another  in  these  reveries,  it  soon  became  a 
fact  that  she  could  think  of  nothing  else.  The  wish  to 
see  him  grew  intolerable.  Why  should  she  not?  She 
had  no  idea  where  he  was.  He  might  be  in  San  'Fran 
cisco.  How  could  she  manage  to  know? 

The  family  had  decided  on  a  French  governess  for 
Caroline.  She  at  once  began  inquiries  and  looking  up 
her  very  few  acquaintances,  begged  their  assistance. 


She  had  been  in  New  Orleans  over  a  week — a  longer 
stay  was  unnecessary.  She  had  not  found  a  suitable 
governess,  neither  had  she  heard  of  Berenger.  She  had 
engaged  her  aunt's  services  in  the  former  mission,  but 
although  Aurelia  might  not  remember  having  heard 
of  Berenger,  Felicia  had  no  wish  to  recall  him  to  her 
recollection,  but  had  indirectly  made  inquiries  of  Mr. 
Wyche,  her  attorney,  and  also  two  or  three  other  men 
of  the  business  world  who  might  have  some  knowledge 
of  him. 

"William  Berenger?  Oh,  yes.  A  friend  of  your  hus 
band.  I  never  saw  the  young  man.  I  don't  think  he 
lives  here."  The  others  answered  in  the  same  manner. 
She  felt  unaccountably  vexed  and  discouraged.  She 


478  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

would  go  at  once  to  see  what  her  Aunt  Aurelia  had 
done  about  the  governess,  and  whether  or  not  she 
would  return  with  her. 

She  found  them  at  tea  in  the  dining-room,  and  was 
promptly  forced  into  a  seat  at  the  table.  There  were 
two  old  ladies  besides  her  aunt.  One  of  them  with 
short,  old-fashioned,  silvery  curls  on  each  side  of  her 
face,  was  French  to  her  finger  tips.  This  lady  had 
refused  tea,  and  was  now  and  then  tasting  wine  from 
a  glass — daintily  held  in  her  delicately  wrinkled  white 
hand.  Served  with  a  cup  of  hot  tea,  she  was  begin 
ning  her  inquiries,  when  her  words  were  arrested  by 
the  firm,  sharp  shutting  of  the  hall-door.  A  hoy- 
denish  looking  girl,  apparently  about  eighteen  years 
old,  came  without  ceremony  into  the  room,  and  took 
a  chair  at  the  table  like  a  member  of  the  family  might 
have  done — bowed  slightly,  and  without  noticing  the 
welcome  of  the  others,  fixed  her  large  black  eyes  on 
Felix. 

"Eh  Pauline!"  said  the  old  French  lady.  "Miss  Cast- 
ano,  my  niece, — Mrs.  Hawley."  The  girl  was  low 
browed — with  thick  black  hair  and  eyebrows — the  lat 
ter  nearly  meeting  above  the  short  high  nose ;  a  too  full 
mouth — and  the  short  upper  lip  rarely  closing  on  the 
lower  one,  showing  the  strong,  white,  slightly  project 
ing  teeth,  in  some  way  gave  an  impression  of  aggres 
sive  haughtiness  to  the  face;  this  was  further  intensi 
fied  by  a  like  expression  in  the  somber,  melancholy 
eyes.  She  was  a  composite  drawn  from  several  Euro 
pean  types  and  veiled  with  an  American  stamp.  The 
aunt  was  a  great-aunt. 

"My  niece,  Mrs.  Hawley,  may  be  able  to  help  you 
to  find  a  governess."  Then  speaking  to  Miss  Cast- 
ano: — "Pauline,  Mrs.  Hawley  wishes  to  find  some  one 
who  can  speak  equally  well  both  our  language  and  the 
English.  Is  not  Miss  Burgeois  through  with  the  Boy- 
ces  ?  She  is  a  native  of  the  old  country." 

"Yes,  she  is  a  native  of  the  old  country,  and  she 
speaks  its  language,  but  how  does  she  speak  it?  And 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE  ROUTE  479 

what  kind  of  a  native  was  she — and  is  she?  She  is 
just  what  her  translated  name  indicates: — no  more — 
perhaps  less;  for  she  is  common — a  hoosier  from  the 
swamps.  Her  English  is  a  gumbo  patois.  She  is  not 
to  be  thought  of,"  said  Miss  Castano,  with  a  pride  that 
was  Spain  and  a  meanness  that  was  France. 

"But,  Mrs.  Hawley,  I  know  one  that  is  a  lady;  a 
descendant  of  an  old  and  honourable  French  family  of 
St.  Louis — Miss  Duval.  She  is  at  present  in  the  family 
of  Dr.  Colbert,  at  a  little  place  called  Harbour  Station. 
It  is  not  a  great  distance  from  here.  It  is  on  a  line 
of  railway,  you  can  reach  her  by  letter  or  more  quickly 
by  telegraph;  and  that  would  be  best;  for  her  services 
might  be  claimed  by  someone  else;  I  know  for  a  cer 
tainty  that  she  will  soon  leave  Dr.  Colbert's." 

"But,  Pauline,  are  you  sure  she  has  been  in  the  Col 
bert  family.  I  was  told  that  she  went  to  Harbour 
Station  to  take  charge  of  some  children — that  the  Ber- 
engers  had  employed  her.  And  Mrs.  Hawley  might 
hesitate — " 

"The  Berengers  have  two  little  girls,  Mrs.  Hawley, 
but  they  are  not  married." 

"Tante  Emilie,  I  don't  know  the  people  you  speak 
of,  but  Miss  Duval  has  been  living  in  the  family  of  Dr. 
Colbert  five  years,  and  would  not  stay  a  moment  in  a 
place  like  that." 

"I  will  telegraph  her  this  very  hour,  Miss  Castano," 
said  Felix,  rising  to  her  feet.  "I  owe  you  a  thousand 
thanks.  I  will  take  that  route  home." 

"Dear  Aunt  Aurelia,  come  to  the  St.  Charles  this 
evening,  for  I  will  go  to  Harbour  Station — and  thence 
to  Charleston.  With  a  hurried  good  bye — she  had 
reached  the  door,  when  Aurelia  running  to  embrace 
her,  said: — 

"If  you  don't  mind  going  home  alone,  Felicia,  I  will 
go  back  as  I  came, — by  water." 

"Very  well,  Auntie,  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  go  in 
that  way,  and  less  fatiguing.  Good  bye." 

"Is  she  always  so  abrupt?"  asked  Miss  Castano. 


480  AL,ONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Felix  always  thinks  and  acts  with  great  rapidity," 
said  Aurelia,  who  was  both  disturbed  and  puzzled.  "I 
believe  I  will  go  to  see  her  later  in  the  evening."  It 
was  growing  late.  Felix  had  gone  a  little  out  of  her 
way  but  was  now  walking  slowly  along  the  street  in 
the  direction  of  her  hotel;  trying  to  decide  upon  some 
way  by  which  she  could  secure  the  services  of  Miss 
Duval  without  going  to  Harbour  Station.  She  was  im 
patient  to  get  home  and  would  be  there  sooner  if  she 
went  by  water,  because  she  could  embark  in  two  or 
three  hours,  whereas  by  rail  she  would  have  to  wait 
until  an  early  hour  in  the  morning.  No — there  must 
be  no  risks,  the  chance  was  one  in  a  hundred.  When 
she  returned,  a  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  in 
evening  dress,  were  passing  down  through  the  en 
trance  hall  of  the  hotel;  hardly  noticing  them,  she 
glanced  carelessly  into  the  drawing-room,  and  saw  the 
man  she  had  come  to  New  Orleans  to  meet.  He  was 
adjusting  an  opera  cloak  around  the  shoulders  of  a 
young  and  pretty  girl;  he  was  looking  down  and  his 
smile  was  like  those  seen  on  lovers'  lips.  A  second 
momentary  glance  and  she  went  into  the  office  to  find 
out  at  what  hour  the  north-bound  train  would  leave  in 
the  morning — hoping  that  it  would  start  before  day 
light — before  the  guests  at  this  hotel  would  have  left 
their  beds.  She  was  as  anxious  to  avoid  Berenger,  as 
before  Mrs.  Gilmore's  communication,  she  had  been 
to  meet  him.  Before  leaving  the  office  she  looked  at 
the  register.  His  name  was  not  there,  but  still  he 
might  lodge  there.  "Ah  well !  It  makes  no  difference," 
she  said  to  herself  with  a  sigh  as  she  mounted  the  stairs 
which  led  to  her  room. 

"She  found  him  living  in  open  adultery  with  one  also 
married  and  had  no  trouble  in  winning  her  suit."  This 
was  what  Captain  Hawley  said  in  reference  to  Mrs. 
Berenger's  application  for  a  divorce.  These  children 
then  were — ?  Oh,  what  a  shameless  thing  to  do!" 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  481 

Captain  Hawley,  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  had 
said  not  one  word  in  excuse — but  it  was  plain  he  did 
not  approve  of  him.  She  rose  abruptly — resolving  not 
to  think  of  it — no,  not  another  minute! 

But  the  phrase — "As  quick  as  thought" — is  a  mean 
ing  one,  there  is  some  doubt  as  to  the  quickness  of 
lightning  when  compared  to  it.  In  this  instance 
thoughts  did  not  come  with  mere  rapidity — they 
surged  and  crowded,  jostling  and  confusing.  It  was  in 
this  wise  she  was  prevented  for  a  time  from  feeling 
the  first  force  of  the  blow  or  from  knowing  even,  that 
it  was  a  blow.  It  was  fortunate  she  had  been  told  the 
one,  and  that  she  had  seen  the  other;  for  if  she  had 
met  him  before  this,  she  would  have  told  him — 
"What—?" 

He  might  have  asked  her  why  she  came — or  what 
she  wanted.  He  was  very,  very  angry  when  they 
parted,  and  spoke  very  disrespectfully.  As  often  as 
she  had  thought  of  this  scene,  just  so  often  she  had 
laughed — but  the  laughter  had  always  been  cut  short 
by  tears.  There  were  no  longer  reasons  why  she  should 
explain  to  him  the  circumstances  connected  with  her 
hasty  marriage.  This  was  a  relief,  for  she  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  discussing  Captain  Hawley's  pri 
vate  affairs  with  anyone,  but  most  of  all  with  him. 

Aurelia  came  and  sat  up  until  near  eleven;  but  not 
finding  anything  in  her  niece's  manner  that  indicated 
a  disturbance  of  any  sort,  she  took  her  leave  at  eleven 
o'clock;  saying  that  at  her  age  no  one  ought  to  be  up 
even  at  that  early  hour  and  that  she  would  make  it 
up  by  sleeping  an  hour  late  in  the  morning. 

"That  prevents  me  from  asking  you  to  stay  all  night 
with  me,  for  I  get  up  at  five  and  I  do  not  believe  I  will 
sleep  at  all." 

"It  was  the  tea — it  was  much  too  strong.  Good  bye." 

Her  Aunt  Aurelia  gone,  she  let  the  contest  between 
mind  and  heart  go  on.  Had  she  ever  really  banished 
him  ?  In  the  first  years  of  her  marriage  she  had  tried 
to  close  up  every  avenue  of  thought  which  would  lead 


482  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

to  the  memory  of  her  past  as  connected  with  him. 
There  were  reminders  about  her  at  all  times,  but  still 
in  part  by  a  strong  effort  of  will  she  held  them  down. 
Yet  sometimes  in  dreams  they  would  meet  and  laugh 
and  talk  in  the  old  way.  Again  they  would  reproach 
each  other — there  would  be  a  dim  cause  for  resentment 
for  an  injury  or  a  wrong,  of  which  she  was  insensible 
when  awake — and  they  would  part  in  anger.  From 
these  she  would  always  wake  with  a  start — a  sicken 
ing  fear — springing  to  a  sitting  position — her  heart 
beating  to  suffocation. 

Gradually  this  had  ceased;  but  the  memory  of  it  re 
mained,  and  with  it  a  consciousness  that  once  more  in 
close  proximity,  the  influence  which  had  so  nearly 
governed  her  would  reassert  itself.  Even  now — to 
night — in  opposition  to  all  better  reasoning  there  came 
to  mind  the  question  of  who  had  been  most  wronged — 
Berenger  or  herself.  He  had  loved  her  so  openly — so 
honestly  and  so  tenderly. 

Besides,  leaving  out  whatever  else  he  may  have  done 
outside  their  own  case,  whose  was  the  greater  fault? 
She  remembered  even  yet,  the  shame  of  having  been 
the  promised  wife,  and  of  receiving  the  caresses  of  a 
man,  not  freed  from  the  legal  bonds  which  bound  him 
to  another.  No  matter  what  specious  argument  may 
have  served  to  gain  her  assent,  her  sin  was  as  great 
as  his — perhaps  more  heinous. 

After  an  almost  sleepless  night  she  began  her  home 
ward  route  by  way  of  Harbour  Station,  on  a  dilapidated 
car  over  a  rough  road — making  slow  progress.  Night 
came  on.  It  would  be  near  daylight,  the  conductor 
told  her,  before  her  point  of  destination  would  be 
reached.  With  a  shawl  folded  on  an  arm  of  the  seat, 
she  tried  to  sleep.  But  always  waking  with  a  start — 
it  would  be  a  dream.  Some  one  would  call  her  name. 
Sometimes  it  was  her  mother's  voice.  She  would  be 
going  into  some  danger,  and  Andrea  would  take  her 
hand,  wishing  to  restrain  or  help,  or  she  would  be 
traveling  on  foot  in  a  strange  country  and  a  mist  would 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  483 

obscure  her  pathway.  When  awake,  the  fearful  feel 
ing  of  one  who  had  long  slept  and  dreamed,  came  over 
her.  In  this  condition  all  the  scenes  of  her  married 
life,  as  though  belonging  to  someone  else,  flitted  before 
her  mental  vision — each  scene  in  its  own  time  and 
place.  So  passed  the  greater  part  of  two  days.  She 
had  changed  cars,  bade  adieu  to  some  new  friends, 
and  gone  on.  At  last ! — Harbour  Station !  It  was  still 
dark  when  she  staggered  to  her  feet.  "This  way, 
madam,"  said  the  conductor.  She  followed  him 
and  was  assisted  to  the  platform.  It  was  such  a  place 
as  was  then  often  seen  along  the  railroad  routes.  A 
few  cheap  houses  of  unpainted  lumber, — mostly 
packed  together,  and  centering  around  the  station 
house.  The  rest,  straggling  in  every  direction,  appar 
ently  at  random,  and  built  on  sandy  land,  whose  only 
growth  consisted  of  a  few,  more  or  less,  scraggy  oak 
trees. 

Later  on,  each  one  of  these  stations  was  expected, 
by  those  dealing  in  such  estate,  to  become  a  town,  with 
rows  upon  rows  of  stately  dwellings  on  wide  streets; 
owning  lawns  bordered  by  flower-beds  and  rare 
shrubs,  where  now  fed  cattle  on  coarse  grass  under 
scrubby  trees.  Nor  were  they  always  disappointed. 
This  very  unpromising  place  afterwards  became  a 
beautiful  town  with  a  beautiful  name. 

"Do  you  know  where  Dr.  Colbert  lives?"  asked 
Felicia  of  a  man  who  came  out  with  a  lamp  and  picked 
up  the  mail-bag. 

"That's  the  doctor's  house  and  his  office  also — that 
little  gray  house  to  the  left.  It's  almost  too  dark  for 
you  to  see  it." 

"I  will  leave  my  luggage  in  your  care.  I  may  leave 
again  soon,  perhaps  this  afternoon  or  to-night."  And 
taking  her  hand-bag,  Felix  went  out  through  the  misty 
darkness  to  the  little  gray  house. 

As  she  entered  the  gate,  a  little  dog  ran  up  to  her  in 
a  friendly  way  and  followed  her  up  the  steps.  A  good 
omen,  she  thought.  As  no  one  else  seemed  to  be  awake, 


484  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

she  walked  about  the  yard  and  on  the  street  in  front 
until  it  was  seen  without  doubt  that  the  family  were 
up  and  dressed. 

"We  were  looking  for  you,  Mrs.  Hawley,  and  a  spec 
ial  breakfast  was  ordered  in  your  honour,  last  night; 
and  you  look  as  if  you  needed  just  that  kind,  and  I  am 
going  out  in  the  kitchen  to  hurry  it  up." 

Miss  Duval  came  out  on  the  porch. 

"I  received  your  telegram — but  you  need  not  have 
been  so  anxious,  for  no  one  else  has  applied  for  me 
and  I'm  rejoiced  that  such  is  the  case;  for  I  have  a 
dear  cousin  living  in  Charleston.  But  I  will  be  com 
pelled  to  go  to  New  Orleans  first.  I  will  make  but  a 
short  visit.  Did  you  think  of  going  back  that  way?" 

"No,  but  I  can.  My  aunt,  Mrs.  Lawson,  is  there  and 
will  return  to  South  Carolina  in  a  few  days.  We  could 
all  go  together." 

"I  can  be  ready  in  less  than  a  couple  of  days.  Will 
that  suit  you?" 

"Precisely;  for  I  need  rest." 

But  feeling  much  refreshed  by  the  special  breakfast 
— especially  the  coffee,  refused  all  entreaties  to  lie 
down  and  rest.  Interesting  herself  in  Miss  Duval's 
packing — helping  now  and  then — begging  to  be  made 
useful. 

"If  you  will  only  sit  by  and  talk  to  me,"  said  Miss 
Duval.  "I  would  like  to  ask  about  some  people  in  New 
Orleans,  of  whom  you  may  have  heard." 

The  first  name  inquired  about  was  that  of  Miss 
Castano's  mother,  which  of  course  Felix  could  not 
answer,  as  she  had  parted  with  the  latter  so  soon  after 
their  introduction.  But  this  question  brought  up  the 
remark  made  by  Mrs.  Gilmore  in  reference  to  Miss 
Duval's  having  lived  in  the  Berenger  family  as  gover 
ness.  Felicia  paused  thoughtfully.  She  asked  if  Miss 
Duval  knew  Mrs.  Gilmore.  Slightly — she  knew  the 
Castanos  well. 

"Do  you  know  a  family  of  the  name  of  Berenger, 
living  here?" 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE  ROUTE  485 

"I  know  a  man  of  that  name  who  sometimes  comes 
here.  He  has  something  to  do  with  the  new  line  of 
railroad  soon  to  take  the  place  of  the  one  you  traveled 
on  yesterday;  it  is  said  he  is  largely  interested  in  its 
success.  I  do  not  think  though,  that  he  has  a  family. 
He  was  very  ill  here  a  year  ago,  perhaps  a  little  longer ; 
Dr.  Colbert  attended  him.  I  know  him  only  by  sight." 

"Then  you  know  of  no  family  of  that  name  who 
employ  a  governess? — A  family  living  here?" 

"No  family  of  that  name  has  lived  here  in  the  last 
five  years;  I  would  be  sure  to  know,  for  it  is  a  small 
place.  There  is  a  family  of  Ballingers  living  here,  but 
they  have  no  governess  and  have  never  been  able  to 
get  one.  I  myself  answered  an  advertisement  of  theirs 
before  I  took  this  place  but  learned  by  correspondence 
that  it  would  not  suit." 

"That  must  be  the  family  Mrs.  Gilmore  alluded  to — 
not  as  acquaintances,  but  as  of  people  to  be  avoided," 
said  Felix,  aghast. 

"In  that,  to  a  certainty, — she  is  right,"  said  Miss 
Duval. 

Felix  felt  like  a  criminal.  She  had  so  readily  be 
lieved  this.  Evidently  a  mistake  caused  by  a  similarity 
of  names.  How  glad  she  was  to  know  the  falsity  of  it. 
But  she  would  follow  him  no  more ;  from  the  first  she 
had  not  wished  to  go  back  to  New  Orleans.  She  took 
several  turns  across  the  floor: — then  reseating  her 
self  she  asked  Miss  Duval: — 

"You  could  go  to  New  Orleans  alone,  could  you  not, 
Miss  Duval?" 

"Easily;  but  there  will  be  no  need.  Several  of  my 
acquaintances  are  going  the  same  route,  but  I  wouldn't 
mind  going  entirely  alone." 

"Then  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Lawson  and 
carry  out  my  first  intention  of  going  home  by  rail.  It 
will  take  less  time  by  two  or  three  days.  The  train 
leaves  at  an  unearthly  hour  in  the  morning,  and  as  I 


486  AJwONO  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

need  rest,  I  will  lie  down  on  this  sofa  and  try  to  sleep." 
"Must  I  call  you  at  luncheon — at  eleven  o'clock,  Mrs. 

Hawley?" 

"Yes."    She  fell  asleep  remembering  that  every  evil 

report  she  had   ever  heard   of  Berenger,   had   been 

cleared  up  in  this  way. 


"I  hated  to  arouse  you,  Mrs.  Hawley,  but  you  lay  so 
still — you  were  sleeping  so  soundly  that  I  bent  over 
and  listened  to  hear  if  you  breathed,  and  as  I  failed 
to  find  out  in  that  way,  I  ventured  to  touch  you." 

"I  do  sleep  soundly,  but  a  word  or  a  touch  will  always 
awaken  me." 

"I  hear  you  have  changed  your  mind  about  going 
back  to  New  Orleans,  Mrs.  Hawley ;  I  saw  the  baggage- 
master  about  your  trunks,  a  little  while  ago,  thinking 
it  was  by  some  oversight  they  were  not  brought  up 
here.  He  told  me  of  your  order  this  morning — that 
the  trunks  were  to  be  forwarded  to  Charleston,"  said 
Dr.  Leroy  Colbert  at  luncheon. 

"Yes,  I  will  get  home  sooner  by  this  route,  and  I 
want  to  see  my  children.  I  am  homesick,  and  Miss 
Duval  has  assured  me  she  will  not  be  put  out." 

"From  the  tags  on  your  trunks  I  learned  that  there 
is  the  difference  of  a  letter  in  the  spelling  of  your 
name  and  that  of  the  Hawley  of  this  county — the  W — 
being  an  L— Halley,"  said  Dr.  Colbert.  "This  differ 
ence  had  something  to  do  with  a  very  interesting 
episode  in  my  practice  somewhere  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  a  year  ago,"  he  continued. 

"A  young  fellow  interested  in  railroading  in  these 
parts,  got  off  the  train  in  a  high  fever  and  lay  down 
on  one  of  the  benches  in  the  waiting-room — where  the 
night  telegrapher  found  him  raving,  early  next 
morning,  and  sent  for  me.  We  took  him  to  the 
best  place  here — the  old  brick  tavern  you  passed 
on  your  way  to  my  house.  At  his  first  lucid 
moment  he  asked  me  if  he  was  going  to  die.  I 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  487 

thought  he  was; — and  told  him  he  was  going  to  have 
a  very  hard  pull.  In  the  evening  when  I  got  back,  I 
learned  that  he  had  sent  a  telegram  to  Mrs.  John  Haw- 
ley  of  Washington  City.  It  was  twenty-four  hours 
before  the  answer  came.  "In  Europe — or  perhaps 
Charleston,  S.  C."  This  was  handed  to  me;  when  I 
took  it  to  him  he  was  too  far  gone  to  understand  it,  and 
I  decided  to  telegraph  Charleston.  The  telegrapher 
had  lost  the  address  and  I  had  forgotten  the  name.  But 
an  assistant  was  sure  that  the  name  was — the  surname 
at  least,  was  Holly ;  and  if  his  memory  served  him  right 
the  Christian  name  was  James.  We  all  remembered 
that  it  was  addressed  to  a  lady.  We  lost  no  time;  but 
the  answer  came  back  promptly,  "No  family  here  of 
the  name  of  Holly."  We  worked  hard  for  him;  and 
when  he  was  able  he  told  us  the  name  was  Hawley — 
spelling  it  like  yours.  His  name  was  Berenger.  He 
sometimes  passes  through  here.  He  is  a  splendid 
looking  fellow." 

"What  was  the  purport  of  the  telegram?"  asked 
Felix,  quietly. 

"The  words — ?  I  didn't  see  it,  but  it  meant  that 
Mrs.  Hawley  must  come  at  once.  He  was  glad,  he 
said,  that  it  had  miscarried — and  laughed  about  it.  I 
put  it  up  that  it  was  some  kind  of  an  old  love-scrape," 
said  Dr.  Colbert  in  conclusion.  Then  glancing  at  Felix, 
who  was  looking  down — he  thought  for  a  moment  or 
two,  blushing  to  the  eyes. 

"Must  every  love  affair  be  a  scrape,  Leroy?"  asked 
his  wife,  who  had  caught  a  fleeting  expression  of  agony 
in  the  beautiful  face  during  the  recital. 

"The  train  you  will  take,  Mrs.  Hawley,  will  be  here 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  there  is  some  un 
certainty  as  to  the  time  it  may  leave.  You  will  have 
your  choice  of  waiting  places — my  house  or  the  depot. 
I  will  be  professionally  engaged,  and  will,  while  wish 
ing  you  a  pleasant  journey  bid  you  good  bye  now,"  said 
Dr.  Colbert,  leaving  the  room  hastily;  feeling  that  in 
one  way  he  had  made  a  professional  blunder — that  he 


488  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

had,  so  to  speak,  betrayed  the  confidence  of  a  patient, 
and  that  he  had  been  rightly  punished  for  he  was  con 
vinced  that  Mrs.  Hawley  was  the  lady  to  whom  the 
telegram  had  been  sent. 


The  train  was  standing  in  front  of  the  station,  the 
engine  still  puffing  off  steam,  when  Felix  entered  the 
waiting  room.  A  low  fire  was  burning  in  the  stove. 
In  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  rushing  noise  along  the 
platform  and  a  family  of  Georgians,  forming  part  of 
a  hunting-party  returning  from  the  Mississippi  cane- 
breaks,  filled  up  the  room.  They  began  immediately 
to  prepare  an  early  breakfast  by  putting  on  the  stove 
to  heat  a  huge  tin  pot  of  already  made  coffee.  The  in 
creasing  heat  caused  Felix  to  withdraw  to  the  benches 
and  finally  from  the  room. 

Going  to  the  conductor  she  asked  him  to  give  her  a 
seat  in  one  of  the  rear  coaches,  if  possible  in  one  with 
fewest  passengers. 

"It  is  really  the  most  pleasant  place  to  sit  when 
waiting.  The  air  just  now  being  free  from  dust  and 
smoke;  and  we  will  have  little  or  no  dust  to-day;  it 
has  rained  enough  all  along  the  road  to  lay  it.  This  is 
next  to  the  rear  car,  and  as  you  see  has  few  passen 
gers,  and  they  are  nearly  all  asleep.  We  will  have  to 
stop  here  until  daylight.  You  can  have  this  whole 
compartment,"  said  he,  as  turning  back  a  seat  he 
left  her  in  the  front  of  the  car ;  where  by  sitting  with 
her  back  to  the  others,  there  could  be  no  one  in  front 
of  her.  Her  valise  which  she  had  told  the  conductor 
to  send  back  to  her  had  been  brought  by  a  negro,  to 
whom  she  gave  an  order  for  a  breakfast,  to  be  brought 
before  the  waited-for  train  arrived. 

Now  at  last  she  could  think.  Sometime  after  Dr. 
Colbert's  rather  embarrassed  exit,  and  almost  before 
she  recovered  from  the  not  altogether  disagreeable 
effect  of  his  story,  though  the  grief  and  pity  of  it  pre- 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE  ROUTE  489 

dominated  over  every  other  feeling,  she  had  already 
told  herself  that  a  knowledge  of  it  could  in  no  way 
affect  her  now. 

The  scene  in  the  hotel  parlour  came  as  in  a  picture 
before  her — the  prettiness  of  the  girl's  face — the  tall 
form,  had  struck  her  as  being  too  full — but  in  other 
ways  perfect,  and  she  had  seemed  for  that  reason  to 
have  passed  her  earlier  girlhood  and  to  be  about 
twenty-two  or  three  years  old.  In  the  Colbert's  par 
lour  there  was  a  large  mirror  over  the  mantlepiece, 
tilted  so  as  to  give  a  view  of  the  whole  person  of  one 
standing  in  front  of  it. 

"I  am  twenty-seven  years  old.  I  am  the  mother  of 
three  children — the  oldest  is  five  years  old.  Let  me 
be  sensible,  and  above  all  let  me  be  candid  with  myself. 
She  stood  before  the  glass.  The  reflection  was  of  such 
beauty  and  grace  that  she  turned  quietly  away.  She 
was  of  such  fine  physical  organization  that  as  yet,  her 
unusual  share  of  the  trials  and  troubles  of  life  had  left 
at  least  no  external  sign.  Like  Darius,  she  was  aware 
that  she  was  possessed  of  great  personal  beauty.  Like 
him  also,  she  was  not  inclined  to  plume  herself  upon 
what  was  evidently  a  gift  of  Nature. 

"I  am  beautiful.  A  kind  Providence  has  made  me 
what  I  am,"  and  there  it  ended.  The  early  part  of  the 
night  had  passed  fitfully — sleeping  with  alternate  wak 
ing,  and  going  over  and  over  and  weighing  each  word 
of  the  story  which  meant  so  much  or  so  little.  If  in 
possession  of  his  faculties  it  was  everything.  It  would 
go  far  to  prove  what  he,  Berenger,  once  told  her  of  a 
love  that  would  last  through  all  eternity.  But  then 
he  had  laughed  about  it  afterwards,  and  was  glad  the 
message  had  miscarried.  So  hours  were  wasted — as 
if  in  trying  to  solve  a  problem  which  every  moment 
made  more  difficult  of  solution.  No,  she  would  not  go 
over  it  again.  It  was  too  confusing.  Tired  and 
drowsy,  she  leaned  back  in  her  seat,  her  head  resting 
on  the  cushioned  back  of  it  with  upturned  chin  and 
closed  eyes.  The  cool  morning  air  fanned  her  from 


490  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

the  open  window.  Again  she  was  a  school-girl  in 
Texas — all  the  intervening  years  with  their  shifting 
scenes  of  joy  and  woe,  flickered  before  her  memory  like 
one  wavering  flash  of  lightning  and  disappeared.  She 
was  riding  Max  along  a  wide  sandy  road,  between 
rows  of  hundreds  of  Mexican  carts — up  to  the  fortlike 
building,  where  she  first  saw  Archie  Berenger — the 
man  she  had  tried  so  hard  not  to  love.  Some  one  had 
taken  her  hand. 

"Felix!" 

She  sat  erect — and  withdrawing  her  hand,  stood 
up — still  half-dreaming,  bending  close,  she  looked  in 
his  face,  and  though  in  the  dim  light  of  only  a  single 
hanging  lamp  at  the  far  end  of  the  car,  she  knew  him 
instantly,  and  without  speaking,  fell  shrinkingly  upon 
her  seat — and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands — with  re 
pressed  sobs,  began  weeping  convulsively. 

"Don't  do  that,  Felix,  I  can't  bear  it,"  trying  to  take 
her  hands  from  her  face. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  how  I  came,  and  why  I  am  here," 
pausing  a  little.  "I  was  almost  afraid  to  come;  I  am 
afraid  you  can  never  forgive  me.  Won't  you  tell  me 
that  you  can?"  Receiving  no  reply,  he  asked: — "If 
you  cannot  speak,  give  me  one  of  your  hands."  Felix 
gave  her  right  hand,  still  pressing  her  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes  with  the  other,  making  a  strong  effort  for 
self-control. 

"You  do  forgive  me?"  She  pressed  his  hand,  and 
sat  up  saying: — 

"I  am  ashamed  of  this : — " 

"Never  mind,"  interrupting,  and  without  releasing 
her  hand,  changed  his  seat  to  one  beside  her,  continu 
ing  his  explanation. 

"I  did  not  know  you  were  in  New  Orleans  until  the 
morning  you  left.  I  had  been  on  the  ocean  for  over  a 
month,  cruising  along  the  South  American  coast — 
partly  on  business,  and  had  just  got  in  the  day  before. 
[  was  looking  over  the  register  and  saw  your  name. 
I  inquired  and  found  you  had  left  at  five  o'clock,  a 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE    ROUTE  491 

few  hours  before,  and  that  you  were  coming  to  this 
place.  The  landlady  gave  me  Mrs.  Lawson's  address 
— she,  Mrs.  Nicholson,  thought  you  might  be  coming 
back  to  New  Orleans.  I  went  to  see  your  aunt,  and 
learned  that  you  would  go  on  to  Charleston  from  here. 
There  was  nothing  leaving  that  day  but  a  freight  train 
sent  on  to  catch  this,  which  I  knew  would  have  to  wait 
for  it  at  this  station.  And  here  I  am." 

"You  followed  me?" 

"I  have  followed  you.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  me?" 

"Don't  you  think  it  time  for  this  wild-goose  chase 
to  end?" 

"It  is  abrupt." 

"Is  it?  You  would  have  another  six  or  seven  years  in 
parenthesis,  in  which  no  doubt  you  would  fulfill  your 
duties  equally  as  well  as  in  the  last,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"If  possible  tell  me  at  once  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

"In  the  first  place,  I  will  never  willingly  make  you 
angry.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?" 

"Ah!"  He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  embrace  her, 
but  checked  it,  and  said  gravely,  "With  God's  help  I 
am  going  to  take  care  of  you — beginning  now.  I  am 
going  with  you  as  far  as  Atlanta.  I  am  to  meet  my 
boys  in  Washington  in  the  near  future — my  former 
wife  being  married  the  second  time,  is  inclined  to  be 
more  generous  than  formerly,  and  I  am  permitted  to 
see  them.  Ah!  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  tell  you! 
Do  you  remember  how  much  we  always  found  to  say? 
Sometimes  I've  been  unable  to  recall  anything  else. 
We  will  begin  where  we  left  off  when  we  were  young — 
in  the  "Days  that  were  our  own — ages  and  ages  ago." 

"Where  did  we  leave  off — ages  ago?"  asked  Felix, 
looking  as  if  again  about  to  weep. 

"We  will  find  the  place — but  don't  cry — or  I'll  begin. 
You  would  not  like  me  to  yell  and  wake  all  these  peo 
ple,  I  know.  But,  darling,  I  never  felt  more  like  it 
in  all  my  life.  I  was  ill  at  this  little  place  once — 
about  a  year  ago — and  I  had  the  doctor  or  someone, 


492  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

to  telegraph  you  to  come.  I  did  not  want  to  die  with 
out  seeing  you  again,  and  I  wanted  to  know  you  forgave 
me  for  my  brutal  conduct  in  New  Orleans." 

"I  never  thought  of  it  in  the  way  you  think.  I  knew 
how  you  felt;  and  some  day  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
it.  I  have  told  you  that  I  would  never  explain,  but 
our  present  relations  demand  frankness  in  all  things, 
and  especially  in  matters  of  this  kind.  As  to  the  shak 
ing — after  I  was  safely  aboard  the  ship,  I  both  laughed 
and  cried.  Almost  everything  has  its  comic  side." 

"Everything  but  death,  and  I  was  so  near  it  that 
night,  that  I  have  hardly  been  able  to  laugh  since." 


"Here  is  our  breakfast,"  said  Berenger,  who  had  sup 
plemented  Felicia's  order  with  another.  This  over,  he 
had  left  the  coach.  The  train  had  pulled  out  and  was 
well  on  its  way  before  he  returned  a  couple  of  hours 
later.  They  had  come  many  miles.  Their  first  day 
was  drawing  near  its  close.  Felicia  had  told  him  all; 
from  their  parting  at  Sanford's  to  their  last  parting. 
The  mistake  which  caused  her  marriage  was  explained ; 
but  she  went  no  further.  John  Hawley  would  hence 
forth  be  to  her  but  a  memory — but  it  would  be  a  sacred 
memory.  Painful  as  had  been  the  thoughts  revived  by 
this  recital,  the  feeling  of  relief  that  it  was  over,  was 
great,  and  she  was  gratified  to  see  its  effect  upon 
Berenger. 

He  seemed  transformed — to  pass  from  sleep  to  wak 
ing — all  the  constraint  and  perplexity  engendered  by 
doubt  had  fallen  from  him  like  a  discarded  garment; 
and  Felix  was  conscious  of  a  return  of  a  certain  air 
of  ownership  in  his  bearing  towards  her,  which 
brought  to  her  mind  vividly,  the  Berenger  of  the  past. 
The  old  sweetness  and  charm  had  begun  once  more  to 
dominate  her.  His  proposal  of  marriage  and  her 
acquiescence  had  seemingly  taken  on  such  an  appear 
ance  of  abruptness,  that  as  yet  she  could  not  make  up 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  493 

her  mind  how  it  would  affect  her  future  movements. 
But  she  would  keep  her  own  counsel — she  would  not 
tell  her  relatives  of  this  approaching  marriage,  but 
would  go  home  and  trust  to  time  and  circumstances  for 
a  way  out  of  the  coming  dilemma.  She  told  Berenger 
of  her  resolve. 

"I  must  tell  you,"  said  Felix,  "that  I  will  not  men 
tion  my  intention  at  home — it  would  be — but  really  I 
can  not  say  why — but  I  am  not  going  to  say  one  word 
of  having  met  you." 

"That's  funny.    I  can't  see  through  it." 
"I'm  sorry,"  she  went  on  without  heeding — "I'm 
sorry  I  can  not  be  married  in  old  St.  Michael's  church 
in  Charleston.     My  mother,  grandmother  and  great- 
grandmother  were  married  there." 

"Then  why  not  you.  What  should  you  dread  so 
much?" 

"You  are  a  divorced  man.  We  could  not  marry  any 
where  in  the  State." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  regret  to  me.  So 
much  depends  upon  a  man's  conscience.  For  some 
people,  there  is  a  higher  law  than  either  Church  or 
State.  I  am  too  well  settled  in  my  views,  to  be  troubled 
about  it,  and  taking  your  first  marriage  as  a  precedent, 
we  will  consider  the  difficulties  attending  marriage  in 
your  State,  without  letting  them  interfere  with  our 
actions.  I  will  go  all  the  way  home  with  you,  and  in 
the  customary  way,  make  my  intentions  known  to  the 
family  at  large.  That  done,  I  will  go  to  Washington 
and  besides  other  business,  I  will  prepare  for  a  holiday 
with  my  little  boys.  Their  visit  will  be  included  in  the 
time — one  month — that  I  will  have  to  be  here.  After 
that  it  will  be  limited  by  your  wishes.  But  as  I  do  not 
want  to  study  the  divorce  laws  of  South  Carolina,  or 
try  to  change  them,  I  want  to  ask  you  to  meet  me  at 
L— n  Station  at  a  specified  date — yet  to  be  agreed 
upon.  Will  you?  We  can  be  married  there." 

"Must  I  bring  the  children?    Or  anyone  else?" 


494  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"Anyone  you  like — but  would  it  be  best  to  move  the 
children  just  now?  We  will  go  to  Charleston  directly 
after — the  ceremony — and — "  he  hesitated.  "They 
will  receive  us,  won't  they?  Can't  we  take  Hawley's 
case  as  a  precedent?  You  seem  unwilling  to  face  them. 
Will  they  especially  object  to  me?" 

"Oh,  they  will  receive  us — hospitably  and  lovingly — 
even  Uncle  Darius,  grandma  and  Aunt  Sarah,  who  are 
sternly  opposed  to  such  marriages;  father,  Basil,  and 
Daisy  will  not  care  one  way  or  another." 

"Then  I  may  stop  at  L — n  and  wait  for  you — it  will 
be  agreeable?" 

"Isn't  that  a  useless  question?" 

A  train-hand  brought  a  message.  Someone  wished 
to  see  him  in  a  forward  car.  Without  reference  to  the 
Ballingers,  she  had  mentioned  Dr.  Colbert's  story  and 
its  effect  upon  her  and,  also,  its  effect  upon  the  doctor 
himself.  At  this  they  had  both  laughed.  She  saw  him 
no  more  until  quite  late  next  morning.  A  waiter  had 
brought  her  a  breakfast,  saying  that  Mr.  Berenger  had 
ordered  it. 

"Will  he  not  come  soon?"  she  asked,  thinking  he 
would  breakfast  with  her. 

"No,  ma'am,  he  told  me  not  to  let  anyone  disturb 
him — he  is  asleep." 

She  remembered  the  long  tiresome  ride  on  the 
freight-train,  the  pallor  and  haggardness  of  his  face 
yesterday  morning,  and  hoped  he  was  not  ill. 

"No,  ma'am  he  gave  this  order  last  night,  so  that 
he  could  sleep.  He  was  very  tired,"  said  the  conductor 
of  whom  she  had  inquired. 

"How  little  you  have  changed!"  she  said,  when  an 
hour  or  two  later  he  had  taken  a  seat  by  her  side.  "I 
would  not  have  believed  it  possible." 

He  sat  looking  at  her  a  little  time  before  answering. 

"I  am  very  happy.  Nothing  could  disturb  me  this 
morning — not  even  a  backward  look.  It  needs  but  one 
thing  more  to  forever  keep  me  from  troubling  about 
the  past.  Can  you  tell  me  that  the  circumstances  of 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE    ROUTE  495 

my  illness  as  told  by  Dr.  Colbert,  did  not  act  as  a  pres 
sure  upon  you  when  making  your  decision?  If  you 
will  say  that — " 

"I  can  say  that — truly.  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
about  my  future  life  and  I  had  no  thought  of  ever  mar 
rying  again;  although  I  went  to  New  Orleans  hoping 
above  all  things  to  see  you.  I  hardly  expected  to  meet 
you.  As  I  have  said,  I  saw  you  in  the  parlours  of  the 
hotel.  I  had  accomplished  my  object." 

"You  could  look  on  my  face  and  pass  me  by!"  with 
a  pained  expression.  "But  how  could  anyone  expect 
more  of  you.  For — quoting  from  one  of  your  own 
poets :  'We  tread  upon  life's  broken  laws.' " 

"And  murmur  at  our  self-inflicted  pain." 

"I  would  have  felt  it  an  intrusion,  not  to  pass  you  by 
just  then,"  she  said — rather  hurriedly  continuing — 
"When  I  saw  you  at  Harbour  Station,  from  the  first 
moment  of  meeting,  I  knew  that  if  you  proposed  mar 
riage  I  would  accept." 

"You  thought  it  the  right  thing  to  do.  The  answer 
was  the  result  of  past  reasoning  upon  the  question  of 
the  right  or  wrong  of  it?" 

"It  would  be  nearer  the  truth  perhaps,  to  say  that 
right  or  wrong,  I  knew  I  would  consent  to  your  pro 
posal." 

"Then  I  am  happy,"  he  said,  "absurdly  happy — too 
much  so,  to  mind  some  little  things  that  I  miss — al 
though  they  are  the  very  same  little  things  that  make 
the  absurdity.  Your  answer  is  given  according  to  rule. 
Its  not  at  all  impulsive,  Felix,  and  it  shows  how  com 
pletely  you  had  put  me  out  of  your  life.  It  is  like  you 
wanted  to  do  it,  but  don't  think  I  am  vexed  with  you. 
You  had  all  along  the  worst  of  it,  and  in  no  way  de 
served  punishment.  That  much  I  learned  the  night 
we  met  on  the  wharf  in  New  Orleans,  when  you  told 
me  you  were  not  to  blame  for  marrying  as  you  did. 
Although  I  could  not  think  of  anything  to  excuse  it, 
I  knew  your  truth  and  believed  you.  The  backward 
look — as  I  said, — I  can  take  it  in  this  supreme  hour 


496  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

without  pain.  When  I  was  told  you  had  left  Texas,  it 
did  not  take  me  long  to  make  up  my  mind  as  to  the 
cause  and  motive — and  I  did  not  hesitate  as  to  my  own 
course.  I  was  at  Eagle  Pass  and  had  been  ill  for  days, 
but  I  immediately  started  for  home.  But  from  the  first 
it  was  a  blow.  When  I  reached  home  I  learned  to  a 
certainty  that  you  had  left  the  Guadalupe,  and  had 
embarked  at  Galveston  for  New  Orleans.  I  lay  pros 
trated  by  fever  for  a  couple  of  weeks — when  able  to 
think  at  all  I  was  helpless — not  able  to  leave  my  bed 
for  days.  One  day  Monroe  came  and  told  me  you  had 
been  married  for  two  weeks.  I  could  not  at  first  be 
lieve  it;  but  the  report  had  been  confirmed  by  your 
father.  Monroe  did  not  remember  your  husband's 
name — but  had  learned  that  he  was  an  Englishman — 
that  he  had  belonged  to  the  Army,  and  that  your  father, 
pleased  with  your  choice  was  going  to  visit  you.  I 
believed  I  had  lost  you  forever,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  I  knew  what  jealousy  meant." 

"I  could  never  make  you  understand  what  I  felt 
when  I  met  you  both  in  New  Orleans.  I  had  pictured 
your  husband  as  a  stranger;  but  I  had  known  Hawley 
for  years — his  standing — his  worth — his  real  superi 
ority  to  almost  everybody  else ; — and  Felix,  I  was  sorry 
for  him.  Forgive  me  for  saying  it — but  I  knew  he  had 
married  a  woman,  who  did  not  and  could  never  love 
him.  And  yet  when  I  met  him  just  after  my  brutal 
treatment  of  you  I  would  have  killed  him.  You  had 
a  minute  before  told  me  you  were  not  to  blame : — then 
who,  if  not  he?  I  had  enough  of  reason  left,  to  be  cer 
tain  that  in  no  way,  was  John  Hawley  capable  of 
wronging  anyone.  The  thought  saved  me  from  another 
and  worse  act  of  violence." 

"How  could  you — oh,  Felix !  How  could  you  ever  have 
forgiven  me!  My  first  rational  thought  afterwards, 
was  that  you  would  never  know  how,  maddened  by  the 
suddenness  of  an  unexpected  meeting,  I  was  hardly 
responsible  for  doing,  what  a  moment  after  I  felt  was 
as  inexcusable  as  it  must  be  unpardonable.  I  felt  on 


OR  THE  INVISIBLE   ROUTE  497 

a  level  with  the  Mexican — an  Apache  Indian — but  one 
remove  from  savagery,  who,  at  San  Antonio  a  month 
before,  had  killed  his  wife  in  a  moment  of  jealous  rage 
for  which,  as  was  proven,  there  was  no  cause.  I  walked 
until  I  could  go  no  longer — returning  to  the  spot  where 
I  had  last  seen  you  and  like  a  roustabout,  lying  upon 
the  ground;  caring  little  what  might  become  of  me. 
The  feeling  rarely  left  me  in  the  years  that  came  after 
but  when  I  was  made  to  think  the  end  was  near,  the 
longing  to  see  you  was  overpowering.  I  have  only  a 
dull  recollection  of  giving  Colbert  your  address.  I  was 
glad  to  learn  that  you  never  received  it — that  you  had 
not  been  troubled  with  it;  satisfied  to  remain  in  sus 
pense,  believing  it  impossible  for  you  to  overlook  what 
I  had  done.  But  when  I  found  you  had  been  in  New 
Orleans  and  under  the  same  roof,  the  memory  of  other 
and  better  days  overwhelmed  me.  The  matter  took 
on  the  shape  of  a  lover's  quarrel — that,  and  that  only. 
We  would  make  it  up.  When  you  put  your  dear  hand 
on  my  shoulder  and  looked  in  my  face,  I  knew  you  had 
understood  and  forgiven  me." 

"I  am  almost  sorry  you  have  told  me ;  but  I  will  say 
that  not  for  one  instant,  did  I  harbour  a  resentful  feel 
ing.  Nor  did  I  ever  speak  of  it  until  now." 

He  went  on  as  if  unconscious  of  the  interruption — 
indeed  as  though  talking  to  himself — as  if  she  were  not 
present. 

"Our  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  were  never  the  same 
— of  course,  I  don't  mean  in  a  general  way — I  am 
speaking  of  love  alone — the  passion  of  love — as  it 
exists  between  the  sexes.  I,  believing  it  to  be  para 
mount — and  you  apparently  thinking  it  should  be  sub 
servient  to  all  other  considerations.  I  will  not  try  to 
convince  you: — I  am  not  strong  enough; — but  I  may 
tell  you,  that  what  you  took  to  be  the  most  wicked 
period  of  my  life,  held  within  its  bounds,  my  best  and 
happiest  hours.  When  I  look  back,  I  always  see  them 
first.  Your  belief,  you  told  me,  was  inborn — some 
thing  you  could  not  control — a  thing  or  birth  and  train- 


498  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

ing:  With  due  deference  to  both — was  it  nothing  to 
throw  away  a  Heaven-born  love?  Can  anyone  do  this 
and  call  it  no  crime?  A  man  whose  nature  calls  for 
this  kind  of  love,  has  no  room  in  his  heart  but  for  the 
object  of  it.  It  ennobles  and  purifies — and  excludes 
all  of  the  baser  sort.  If  forced  to  put  up  with  less,  the 
effects  are  deplorable,  reaching  to  the  offpsring  of 
such  a  union.  I  speak  from  my  own — a  man's  point  of 
view.  A  man  loves  the  child  of  the  adored  one  best. 
But  what  is  the  use  of  again  going  over  this.  I  will 
always  believe  the  course  I  begged  you  to  take,  was 
the  right  one !  but  don't  understand  me  to  mean,  that  I 
overlook  my  own  offense  in  bringing  about  conditions 
which  made  such  counsel  necessary;  but  even  in  a 
moral  or  religious  sense — I  thought  at  the  time  it  would 
be  better  than  the  one  you  afterwards  chose  to  take." 

"It  was  not  from  choice,  as  I  have  already  explained ; 
but  is  it  not  best  to  go  no  further?  You  are  my  first 
love.  You  say  I  am  yours.  I  do  not  like  you  to  feel 
humiliated  any  longer  about  something  which  a  mo 
ment's  reflection  told  me  couldn't  be  helped.  Forget  it 
and  don't  mention  it  again." 

"No,  Felix,  I  do  not  mean  to;  but  I  have  told  you 
what  led  to  it,  not  in  justification,  but  to  palliate  in  a 
slight  degree,  the  act  of  a  maniac.  I  will  not  forget, 
but  will  keep  it  in  mind  as  a  reminder  that  will  be 
useful  in  warding  off  future  lapses." 

"While  I  am  talking  about  myself,  I  will  take  another 
phase  of  my  theme.  I  want  to  say  to  you,  Felix,  that 
I  am  decidedly  a  successful  business  man.  Are  you 
glad  to  know  it." 

"In  a  way,  yes.  I  can  remember  your  aspirations  in 
former  days." 

"There  is  only  one  thing  I  dislike  about  my  present 
occupation.  It  takes  one  away  from  home,  and  I've 
lost  my  antipathy  to  apron  strings.  I  am  willing  to  be 
a  prisoner." 


OR^THB   INVISIBIvB   ROUTE  499 

"You  will  soon  lose  that  liking  and  pine  for  liberty. 
The  feeling  seldom  lasts." 

"I  am  an  inconstant  fellow  I  know,"  looking  askant. 

"Inconstant?  Never.  You  don't  belong  to  that 
class.  But  do  you  really  think  I  would  use  the  apron 
string  in  any  case?  If  you  believe  that — you  do  not 
quite  know  me.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  change  any  of 
your  habits.  You  can't  guess  how  much  I  hope  to  be 
benefited  by  your  happy,  cheerful  temperament;  I 
might  better  use  the  word  gaiety — in  describing  what 
I  take  to  be  the  key-note  to  your  whole  character.  I 
would  hate  for  you  to  lose  that  quality.  It  is  my  nature 
to  mope,  and  it  is  my  knowledge  of  this  morbid  trait, 
which  alone  has  kept  me  from  being  misanthropic.  I 
do  not  approve  of  a  man  who  will  submit  to  the  apron 
string.  I  would  rather  go  about  and  travel  with  you, 
from  one  charming  place,  like  Harbour  Station,  to  an 
other  of  the  same  kind;  or  go  out  west,  and  fish  and 
hunt  with  you — and  shoot — I  like  all  the  things  which 
take  one  out  of  doors." 

"And  what  about  the  children?" 

"I  will  leave  them  with  grandma  and  Aunt  Sarah." 

"We'll  see.  Perhaps  a  diversity  of  amusements 
might  be  best — I  may  learn  to  sew,  and  some  of  those 
other  things  which  make  a  man  like  to  stay  in-doors." 

"Do  not  try  to  quiz,"  said  Felix,  laughing — glad  to 
know  that  the  boyish  and  unconquerable  spirit  of  fun, 
which  had  always  characterized  him,  was  still  domi 
nant. 

"I  am  not  always  so  frivolous  as  I  appear  to-day : — 
but  my  darling,  it  is  like  Heaven  to  be  near  you ;  to  see 
that  you  can  still  be  happy.  For  in  spite  of  all,  Felix, 
we  must  be  that — we  were  boy  and  girl,  when  we  be 
gan.  Some  day  we  will  go  over  it  all;  choosing  out 
of  the  past,  what  is  best  to  be  remembered,  and  for 
getting  the  rest." 


The  old  garden  at  "The  Pines,"  was  not  so  well  kept 
as  when  Paul  and  Andrea  had  fixed  the  date  of  their 


500  ALONG  THB  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

wedding  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  The  rasp 
berry  vines  hid  the  rotten  wall;  and  in  some  places 
made  a  hedge  where  there  was  no  wall — joining  with 
the  Alabama  rose  vines,  which  were  all  of  a  tangle  and 
no  longer  brought  forth  full-petaled  blooms — going 
back  to  Nature  like  all  thoroughbred  things  when  ne 
glected  for  several  generations.  But  it  was  a  pretty  old 
garden  yet,  and  there  were  crepe-myrtles  about.  Dar 
ius,  sitting  among  them  on  a  bench,  had  put  his  book 
down  and  was  listening  to  Miss  Darius;  who,  with 
hands  resting  on  the  ends  of  a  walking-stick  lying 
across  her  lap,  had  been  for  some  time  earnestly  talk 
ing  to  him. 

"It  would  be  of  no  use,  Sarah.  Such  matters  are 
— and  ought  to  be,  beyond  our  control.  Even  had  we 
known  of  it  at  first,  I  doubt  that  our  influence  would 
have  prevented  it.  Now  I  am  sure  it  is  too  late." 

"If  only  Felicia  had  been  more  confiding — and  Paul 
— Do  you  think  Paul  knew  of  it." 

"I  don't  know — and,  Sarah,  I  don't  care— It's  plain 
ly  none  of  our  business.  The  children  will  probably 
not  be  moved  for  years  yet.  Will  not  that  be  a  conso 
lation?" 

Miss  Darius  paused  ponderingly.  With  dim,  uplifted 
eyes  gazing  sadly  into  space. 

"Consolation?  It  will  be  everything,  Darius.  I  have 
had  so  many  partings,  I  would  like  to  keep  them 
always.  You  know  what  'always'  means  to  me.  It  can 
be  but  a  short  time." 

Miss  Sarah  rose  and  went  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
garden  where  some  negroes  were  repairing  the  wall. 
Her  bent  figure  could  be  seen  through  the  tall  shrub 
bery  as  she  walked  from  one  to  the  other,  explaining 
or  directing  the  work.  The  children  were  playing  in 
the  summer-house  near  by.  Paul  and  Berenger  might 
come  at  any  moment.  Felicia,  when  making  a  hasty 
visit  to  her  father  and  grandmother  at  their  home  in 
Charleston,  had,  after  telling  the  former  all  that  had 
occurred  in  her  absence,  gone  to  her  children  at  the 


OR  THE   INVISIBLE   ROUTE  501 

Darius  homestead,  and  was  now  with  her  Aunt  Aurelia 
awaiting  the  coming  of  the  expected  guests.  They 
would  come  together,  for  Paul  had  immediately  after 
Felicia's  communication,  gone  to  Berenger's  hotel  and 
claimed  him  as  his  guest. 

Both  families  had  received  the  news  with  a  surprise 
bordering  upon  consternation.  Aurelia  would  have 
spoken  out  but  for  a  hint  from  Darius. 

Felix  and  her  lover  came  alone.  Darius  again  laid 
aside  his  book  and  after  a  warm  greeting,  checked  all 
further  unpleasant  anticipation  by  saying. 

"Felix  has  bravely  told  me,  Mr.  Berenger,  not  only 
the  object  of  your  present  visit,  but  much  besides, 
which  I  never  would  have  guessed.  I  differ  with  you,  it 
is  true,  but  just  now  I  would  rather  change  our  laws 
than  to  argue  their  superiority — if  only  that  Felix 
might  be  married  in  either  one  of  her  homes  or  at  St. 
Michael's  church.  But  they  are  more  inflexible  than 
the  relative  decrees  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  which  can 
be  stretched  at  the  will  of  the  Pope.  From  our  divorce 
laws,  there  is  no  appeal." 

"Felicia  tells  me  that  you  will  come  directly  here 
after  the  ceremony.  Then,  Mr.  Berenger,  we  will  show 
you  how  welcome  you  are.  We  will  have  a  family  re 
union.  Would  it  be  possible  for  you  to  bring  your 
children?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Miss  Darius,  I  do  not  yet  know  the 
time  of  their  coming,  but  I  think  they  will  have  re 
turned  before  the  date  set  for  my  marriage.  But  be 
assured  that  I  appreciate  the  kindness  and  hospitality 
of  your  invitation." 


The  Berengers  were  with  the  Bathursts  in  Charles 
ton. 

"I  thought  you  would  live  there,"  said  Basil  to  his 
sister  a  month  later,  when  told  of  the  sale  of  the  Wash 
ington  City  property. 


502  ALONG  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY 

"I  could  not  bear  it,"  she  answered.  "Our  home  will 
be  a  ranch  in  Southwest  Texas." 

"Ah!  You  can  count  on  me  for  a  neighbor.  Will 
you  buy  or  build?" 

"We  have  bought  the  necessary  farming  and  pasture 
lands,  but  have  gone  no  further  than  the  plan  of  a 
house.  It  will  however  be  built  of  good  material  and 
have  many  rooms.  We  begin  with  a  large  family  of 
seven  children.  My  four  boys — and  Caroline — five  of 
my  own.  Archie's  two  boys — by  agreement  will  spend 
their  summer  vacations  with  us  until  they  are  of  age. 
Afterwards,  of  course  they  will  be  free  to  choose.  We 
will  live  in  the  mountains  and  our  house  will  be  built 
of  Texas  granite  and  marble." 

"Why,  Felix,  that  will  be  a  palace,  won't  it?  Like 
those  we  saw  in  Europe?"  asked  Daisy. 

"Hardly.  But  palace  or  bungalo — jacal  or  cabin — 
it  is  necessary  in  ranching  to  have  many  rooms.  There 
must  be  also,  as  you  both  know,  substantial  buildings 
for  the  people  employed." 

"Ah,  Felix!  How  like  old  times  to  hear  you  speak 
like  this.  Hardly  old  times — for  it  is  not  so  very  long 
ago — but  like  old  times — so  sad,  so  sweet,  that  it  breaks 
my  heart  to  remember  them !  When  you,  Daisy  and  I, 
fought  a  battle  with  misfortune — and  won!" 

"Palaces !  Southwest  Texas  was  created  for  palaces. 
It  would  seem  that  the  maker  formed  the  sites  whereon 
to  build  them: — gave  the  models  and  laid  out  the 
grounds  for  a  thousand  palaces!  The  former  to  be 
seen  by  sunlight; — the  latter  in  the  magic  light  of  the 
moon  and  stars.  I  have  remarked  them  to  travelers 
of  world-wide  experience;  and  all  have  agreed  that 
whether  on  mountain  height — crown  of  hill — on  level 
or  rolling  prairie — that  nowhere  on  the  globe  are  the 
beauty  and  number  of  these  building  sites  surpassed." 

"In  all  my  wanderings,  whether  drawn  by  business 
or  pleasure — at  every  step  in  whatever  direction,  this 
impression  was  stamped  upon  me.  Even  the  blasting 
drouth  creaiuu  a  picture  of  blighted  loveliness." 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE  503 

"So  for  the  day: — morning — noon  and  afternoon — 
with  the  sunlight  shining  on  the  blue  sky  and  the  green- 
carpeted  earth.  But  wnen  camping  at  night,  high  on 
the  mountain  and  looking  oelow  and  around,  the  illus 
ion  was  complete.  The  wide  valleys,  lighted  by  the 
brilliant  firmament, — seemed  as  broad.  Each  motte 
of  liveoaks  mingled  with  other  less  wide-spreading  but 
taller  trees,  took  on  according  to  size,  a  aif  ferent  shape. 
Now  a  village  with  churches — the  belfries  and  spires 
of  which  could  be  traced — huge  fields  of  wheat  inclosed 
with  hedges — ancient  castles  with  turrets  and  turret- 
guns — old  fortresses  with  fallen  walls  and  broken 
bastion;  with  now  and  then  a  modern  mansion  owning 
a  lawn  or  more  often  a  flower-garden  with  walks  and 
borders  shaped — the  narrow — by  tread  of  turkey  feet, 
or  foot-path  of  rabbit  or  wild-cat.  The  wider,  by  track 
of  the  wild  deer  and  wolf;  and  wide,  deep  streets  by 
trail  of  buffalo.  Glorious!  A  land  of  the  living  and 
the  dead !  By  the  magic  of  the  moonlight  made  to  look 
like  a  dream  land,  in  the  cool  shadows  of  which  dwells 
the  spirit  of  the  Past." 

"I  am  glad  to  know  my  children  will  live  in  the  land 
of  my  choice.  As  it  will  soon  be  a  matter  of  a  very  few 
days  to  reach  any  part  of  the  United  States  you  may 
expect  me  to  take  advantage  of  it,  for  I  intend  to  be 
a  frequent  visitor." 

"Darling  father,"  said  Felix,  as  with  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  she  kissed  him.  "It  will  not  seem  like  a  real 
home  if  you  fail  to  be  that." 

"Dear,  dear  father," — from  Basil  and  Daisy, — and 
bearded  men  as  they  were,  the  brothers  kissed  their 
father. 

(THE    END) 


504  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 


AFTERWARDS. 

Afterwards,  the  men  and  women  who  stood  for  the 
characters  in  this  book  lived  stirring  lives;  but  is  it 
not  best  to  refrain  from  going  beyond  the  point  at 
which  we  bade  them  good  bye  and  left  them?  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  the  ten  years  following  proved  to 
be  the  most  trying  period  of  their  existence,  but  by 
no  means  the  most  unhappy.  Throughout  the  worst 
of  it,  there  was  much  to  console  and  strengthen.  The 
exasperating  conditions  made  a  discipline  which,  as 
Basil  Bathurst  observed,  was  good  for  the  soul.  Bring 
ing  the  whole  South  together  as  one  great  family — 
a  nation  within  a  nation,  united  by  bands  as  of  steel — 
each  member  loving  and  helping — even  the  wandering 
sheep  returning  one  by  one,  to  the  fold.  So  we  may 
remember  Darius  in  his  garden  as  we  saw  him  last, 
knowing  that  the  brave  heart  never  faltered  in  its  sub 
lime  courage,  and  that  duty  being  among  the  first  rul 
ing  laws  in  a  nature  like  his,  he  could  have  made  few, 
if  any,  mistakes;  and  we  may  believe,  if  we  like,  that 
he  sometimes  hunted  birds  in  the  woods  of  Folly  Island 
and  sea-fowls  along  its  rugged  shores ;  and  that  he  sat 
again  under  the  great  palmetto  trees  and  thought — or 
slept  or  dreamed  of  sweet  Caroline  Robson,  as  of  one 
whose  errors  had  been  paid  for  and  cancelled  by  her 
untimely  death,  and  as  of  one  whose  loving,  despairing 
words  had  haunted  and  would  haunt  him,  all  his  life. 

We  have  now  come  to  the  year  1912.  It  has  been 
several  more  than  two-score  years  since  the  South  sur 
rendering,  laid  down  sword  and  gun  and  began  a  seri 
ous  battle  with  other  weapons  against  other  forces ;  for 
the  war  was  not  over — and  is  not  yet  over,  whatever 
may  be  said  about  one  nation — Spanish  war — one  war- 
tune — end  of  sectionalism,  and  other  idle  talk,  which 


OR  THE    INVISIBLE   ROUTE 


strange  to  say  is  mostly  found  coming  from  the  North 
ern  press,  even  though  the  goading  has  not  ceased. 
This,  not  the  goading,  but  the  other,  is  generally  looked 
upon  by  Southern  people  with  astonishment,  and  hav 
ing  become  accustomed  to  abuse  and  pretended  con 
tempt,  would  perhaps  bear  the  former  course  with  more 
equanimity,  believing  it  to  be  an  honest  expression 
of  what  is  real,  and  that  anything  else  would  be 
hypocritical. 

Note.  —  The  abridged  account  of  the  settlement 
of  certain  parts  of  Southwest  Texas  under  the  aus 
pices  of  "The  German  Association  of  Princes"  was 
quoted  mainly  to  show  of  what  quality  and  kind 
were  the  ancestors  of  the  large  German  population  in 
this  portion  of  the  State.  The  account  was  brought 
forth  by  a  description  of  the  Battle  of  Nueces,  given 
by  Capt.  J.  W.  Sansom,  a  famous  scout,  guide  and 
ranger,  and  also  a  fearless  Unionist.  The  fight  was 
between  two  companies — one,  numbering  sixty  men, 
commanded  by  Lieut  . .  McRea  of  Duff's  Reg.  C.  S.  A. 
— the  other,  a  force  of  sixty-five  men  composed  in  the 
main  of  Germans — a  small  minority  being  Americans 
who  afterwards  joined  the  Union  Army.  The  date — 
August  10th,  1862. 

The  Germans  of  the  party  were  mostly  of  the  class 
most  nearly  connected  with  rule  of  the  Royal  Associa 
tion  of  years  before;  and  this  fact  connected  with 
others  equally  suggestive  caused  many  to  wonder 
whether  or  not  this  movement  was  not  the  result  of 
revived  hopes,  and  this  little  company  a  vanguard,  part 
to  be  sent  to  Germany  and  the  remaining  to  be  left  in 
Mexico  to  be  scattered  along  the  Rio  Grande  or  to  other 
points  where  they  might  be  useful.  In  other  words 
that  the  hope  of  establishing  the  German  rule  in  North 
America  had  been  revived.  There  was  a  call  for  fur 
ther  enlightenment  made  by  a  local  historian,  but  there 
was  no  response. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  motive  of  the  Germans 
the  Americans  connected  with  the  ill-fated  adventure, 


506  ALONG  THE  KING'S    HIGHWAY 

were  honest  in  their  own,  and  evidently  did  not  sus 
pect  their  companions  of  using  them  to  cloak  or  screen 
what  might  be  called  a  conspiracy  against  the  United 
States  Government. 

Col.  Duff  was  openly  censured  by  the  public  at  large, 
for  so  quiet  had  been  the  movements  of  both  parties, 
the  news  of  the  battle  came  as  a  surprise  to  all.  Many 
conflicting  reports  were  circulated.  One  of  them  be 
ing  that  there  were  no  naturalized  citizens  among  the 
foreigners,  and  that  they  wished  only  to  leave  the 
country  quietly  and  peaceably.  It  was  found  after 
wards  that  many  of  them  were  in  reality  naturalized 
citizens  of  the  United  States. 

Col.  Duff,  in  defense,  stated  that  the  intercepted  com 
pany  was  an  organized  military  body,  part  of  a  squad 
ron  raised  in  Comal,  Gillespie,  Kerr  and  Kendall  coun 
ties,  and  was  being  sent  to  join  the  Union  forces  by 
way  of  Mexico.  Therefore,  was  as  much  an  enemy 
of  the  Confederacy  as  if  raised  anywhere  in  the  North. 
If  loyal  to  the  Union  the  survivors  were  strangely  sil 
ent  after  the  war  was  over.  The  memory  of  the  Battle 
of  Nueces  was  never  revived  by  any  allusion  from  those 
most  concerned.  There  are  a  few  living  who  recall  the 
fact  of  the  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  sweethearts 
coming  in  ox-wagons  to  the  romantically  beautiful  spot 
where  they  fell,  and  bearing  home  the  bodies  of  their 
beloved  dead;  among  whom  were  those  of  Lieut.  Higo 
Degener  and  his  young  brother,  Hilmar;  sons  of  Ed 
ward  von  Degener,  deceased  for  many  years  past.  This 
gentleman  lived  in  Kendall  county,  and  subsequently 
became  Congressional  representative  of  the  district  to 
which  he  belonged. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUN  1 6  1950 


Form  L9 — 15m-10,'48  (B1039 )  444 


*  i   Of 
LOS  ANGSUGS 


2827      Along  the 

King*s   high- 
way. 


JUN 


UCLA-Young  Research  Library 

PS2827  .S559a 

yr 


L  009  598  423  3 


001224397 


PS 

2827 

S559a 


